


13th

by grlnxtdr29



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-24 02:51:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 35,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17696246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grlnxtdr29/pseuds/grlnxtdr29
Summary: Soul mates only have 13 chances to find each other and fall in love and live happily ever after. Two souls have met and fallen in love twelve times, but each time tragedy has torn them apart. This time, can they get it right?





	1. His Dark Prince

**Author's Note:**

> This story starts just before season 2 and continues through Never Been Kissed. It pretty much follows cannon up to the meeting on the staircase. It was inspired by but not based on a novella by Linda Howard, about two lovers who are reincarnated again and again, but always separated by tragedy, until they finally get it right.
> 
> The names used in this first chapter came from a Sumerian name generator, and are authentic names from this time period.

5025 BC, a kingdom long forgotten and buried by the sands of time.

King Namzu of Umir inspected the tribute sent to him from the king of Uruk in celebration of the peace treaty between the two kingdoms. The gifts included gems, furs, exotic feathers, and several servants. Namzu was pleased with the tribute. As he studied the servants, he noticed a young boy among them. The child was possibly the most exotic looking the king had ever seen. No more than ten years old, the boy had skin paler than any he'd ever seen before, and eyes the color of stormy seas that changed from blue to green to grey.

"You, boy, what is your name?"

"I am called Kur, sire."

The boy's voice was soft, delicate, yet sounded almost musical.

The king nodded. "My son, Prince Ablain, is in need of a personal servant. You will suffice."

Kur glanced at the boy standing behind his father's throne. The curly haired boy appeared to be the same age as him, perhaps a little younger. Their eyes met for a moment, glasz and melted gold appraising each other, and then Kur lowered his gaze respectfully.

A short while later, Kur followed the young prince down a corridor. Prince Ablain led him to his rooms, and showed him to an antechamber. "This is where you will sleep. If there is anything you need, ask Abadon, our Steward. He will provide you with what ever is necessary."

The prince looked over his new servant, not unkindly. "Are you hungry? You should go down to the kitchens and eat. Ask for Mercy. Tell her I sent you. She'll take care of you."

"Thank you, sire."

"Please, when we are alone, call me Ablain." The dark haired boy smiled shyly. "The truth is, I don't really need a servant. What I really need is a friend."

Kur returned the prince's shy smile. The prince gave him directions to the kitchen and sent him on his way.

Later that night, as the palace lay sleeping, a storm moved in. The sound of Thunder woke Kur, and the sound of cries from the main room drew him from his bed. He spotted the curly haired prince sitting up in his bed, fear etching his face as another blast of thunder sounded, drawing another shriek from the scared prince. The dark boy didn't even seem to notice Kur as he slipped up beside the bed.

"Sire? Are you alright?"

"Kur? Oh, um, yes. I'm just..."

Another boom rattled the palace, much louder and closer than the others. Kur reached out and took the other boy's hand. "Is it true your mother died in a storm on the river?"

The prince looked up at him, startled. "How did you know that?"

"One of the women in the kitchen mentioned it earlier. My Mother died two summer seasons ago, too. She died in childbirth. The baby didn't survive either."

"I'm sorry. What about your father?"

"No one knows who he was. My mother was a priestess in the Temple of the gods. I remember when I was scared, she would sing to me. Shall I sing for you?"

Another clash of thunder had the prince whimpering. The golden eyed boy nodded. "Please?"

Kur settled on the bed beside the younger boy and began to sing. The song was a lullaby, his voice high and sweet. He sang until he thought the prince was asleep. The storm had passed quickly, as desert storms tend to do. Kur began to slip off the bed to return to his room, but a small hand grabbed his wrist.

"Stay. Please."

After a moment of hesitation, he lay back down on the bed, above the covers, and watched the curly haired boy drift ff to sleep. He continued to watch the beautiful young prince for a long while, before sleep claimed him as well.

…

Kurt woke up with a groan. He was so not looking forward to today. It was the first day of his Junior year. The first day of another year at a school where he know his life would be made a living hell on a daily basis.

The only thing he had to look forward to was Glee Club, and even the thought of that wasn't enough to make him want to get out of bed. Sure, he loved to sing, he loved to perform. But he knew he'd never be the one in the spotlight. Rachel always got the solos. He'd spend another year sitting in the back row, being under appreciated by his so called friends who only tolerated him because they needed his warm body to make their required twelve members.

Sighing, he slipped out of bed and began his morning ritual, showering, moisturizing, primping, and then selecting the perfect outfit. Once he was coiffed and dressed, he went upstairs for breakfast. His dad sat at the table, reading the newspaper, eating his breakfast of bacon and eggs and drinking his second cup of coffee.

"You know eating like that is going to kill you one of these days."

Burt grunted, smiling. "At least I'll die a happy man. You ready for a new year, kiddo?"

"As ready as I'll ever be to face the never ending flow of ignorance and disappointing lack of respect from the intellectually challenged masses of William McKinley High School."

"I see the snark factor has increased this year." Burt teased, but then sobered as he looked at his only child. "Promise me you'll tell me if things get too bad this year? I know I'm not the most observant parent, but I know you went through some rough times last year. I just want you to be happy."

Kurt smiled and hugged his dad. "I promise."

…

"Welcome back, Homo!" The voice preceded the sensation of ice cold slush slamming him in the face with the force of the titanic ramming the iceberg. Yep, just another wonderful day at McKinley, and school hadn't even officially started yet.

After retreating to the nearest (girls) bathroom to clean his face, he examined himself in the mirror. He'd lucked out. He'd still been wearing his coat, and the scarf he'd paired with it had protected his new shirt from getting ruined. He didn't even need to change clothes. He finished restyling his hair and was about to leave, when the door opened revealing one Quinn Fabray.

Once the HBIC of the school, Quinn had mellowed some after the scandal of the previous year. She took one look at the pale boy in front of her and smiled sweetly. "I see the Neanderthals struck early this year. Are you okay?"

Kurt smiled his usual Bitch, please smile. "I'm fine. They didn't manage to ruin anything this time except one of my older scarves. No harm no foul. Maybe it's a sign that my luck is changing this year."

They both laughed, and the blonde girl hugged him. "I'll see you later in Glee."

"Later, Quinn."

His luck didn't last long. By lunch time, he'd been shoved into lockers three times, and had a second slushie facial. And he'd lost count of the homophobic slurs that had been thrown his way. By the end of the day he wasn't even sure if he had the strength to face Glee club.

He took his seat in the back, wondering how long it would take for Rachel to make some egotistical comment in that irritating voice of hers that would set him off. By the end of the hour, he was exhausted and ready to go home.

…

5020 BC, Forgotten kingdom of Umir.

The pale boy with the strange eyes stood beside his prince as the delegation from Ur was presented. The past five years had been good to both boys. Kur's long and lean body had filled out, and the auburn hair was pulled back off his face with a leather thong, displaying those exotic eyes. He was slightly taller than Ablain, though the dark prince was more muscular.

The darker boy was nervous. Among the delegation was his betrothed, Princess Radjni of Ur. They had been promised to each other practically from birth, though they had never met before this day. Kur could see that his friend was afraid. Taking advantage of the throne blocking anyone from seeing, he placed a hand reassuringly on the other boy's back. The younger male leaned back into the touch gratefully.

"King Namzu, Prince Ablain, may I present Princess Radjni."

The girl stepped forward, head bowed in what should have been a respectful manner, but seemed somehow rude from her. She was petite, with straight brown hair that was decorated with chains of gold coins and opals. Though they could not see her eyes, her face was angular, her nose prominent, though it did not mar her classical beauty.

The king glanced at his son, who stepped forward obediently to greet his soon to be bride.

"Welcome, Princess Radjni. I hope you will be happy here."

The girl looked up at Ablain appraisingly. Kur could now see that the girl's eyes were brown. He didn't like the calculating way she looked at his prince, nor did he like her voice when she spoke. "I'm sure I'll adjust to this...new home of mine."

Kur saw the flare of annoyance on Ablain's face at the girl's words. The way she spoke made it clear that she was not impressed with her "new home" at all.

Later, after the celebration banquet, Kur helped his prince prepare for bed as he listened to the younger boy rant about his betrothed.

"..and through out the entire meal she kept making snide remarks along the lines of 'in Ur, we have feasts with hundreds of different dishes and everything is so delicious. The food here is so bland!' And she found fault with everything from the quality of the marble in the throne room to the lack of adornments in her room, despite her being given the grandest guest room in the palace!"

Kur smiled at the younger male. "At least you did not hear what she said about the evenings entertainment. You were distracted by the Steward asking if you wished him to fetch more wine when the princess proclaimed that she was much more talented than our singers."

The curly haired boy sighed and moved to the bed. He looked down at the covers. "Can I confess a secret to you, Kur?"

"Of course, Sire. I shall take your secrets to my grave, you know that."

The curly haired boy ran his hand nervously over the soft pelt that made up the covering beneath which he slept. "I'm in love with someone."

"What?" The pale boy sat beside the prince on the bed. "You are in love with a girl here in the palace? Who is it?"

The other boy sighed, not looking at his servant. "It's not...it's not a girl."

Kur sat back slowly. "Oh."

Ablain studied the older boy from under his eyelashes. Slowly he reached out and took Kur's hand. The pale boy smiled softly, and they both leaned forward shyly until their lips brushed each others'.

…

Tuesday was worse than the previous day had been. Kurt had no sooner stepped away from his locker, heading toward his first class, when no less than four slushies came flying at his face. Between second and third period, he'd been shoved into a locker so hard he thought his shoulder might actually be dislocated.

And the worst part of his day? Not having a solo during the awesome number they were going to perform at lunch to try to attract new members. Oh well. At least he was rocking the hairstyle Santana hand given him, and he had to admit the Tshirt made him look H.O.T.

Artie:  
Yeah  
Yeah, I'm up at Brooklyn  
Now I'm down in Tribeca  
Right next to DeNiro  
But I'll be hood forever  
I'm the new Sinatra  
And since I made it here  
I can make it anywhere  
Yeah, they love me everywhere

Finn:  
I used to cop in Harlem  
All of my Dominicanos  
Right there up on Broadway  
Brought me back to that McDonald's  
Took it to my stash box  
Five-Sixty state-street  
Catch me in the kitchen  
Like a Simmons with them pastries

Puck:  
Cruising down 8th street  
Off white Lexus  
Driving so slow but BK is from Texas  
Me, I'm up at Bed-Stuy  
Home of that boy Biggie  
Now I live on Billboard  
And I brought my boys with me

Say what up to TyTy  
Still sipping Mai Tai's  
Sitting courtside  
Knicks and Nets give me high fives  
Jigga, I be spiked out (New Directions Girls: Come on)  
I can trip a referee (New Directions Girls: Come on)  
Tell by my attitude (New Directions Girls: Come on)  
That I most definitely from

Santana with New Directions (Puck):  
In New York (From, hey, aha)  
Concrete jungle where dreams are made of (Yeah)  
There's nothing you can't do (Yeah)

Now you're in New York (Rachel: You're in New York) (Aha, aha, aha)  
These streets will make (with Rachel: you feel brand new) (New)  
Big lights will (with Rachel: inspire you) (Come on)

Let's hear it for New York (You're welcome, old G)  
New York  
New York (I made you high, jigga)

Finn (Mercedes):  
Catch me at the X with OG at a Yankee game (Oh, ooh-wooh)  
Dude I made a Yankee hat more famous than a Yankee can  
You should know I bleed Blue, but I ain't a crip, tho (Oh-ooh-woah)  
But I got a gang of brothers walking with my clique though

Welcome to the Melting Pot (Whoa-ooh)  
Corners where we selling rocks  
Africa bambaataa, home of the hip hop  
Yellow cap, gypsy cap, dollar cab, holla back for foreigners  
It ain't for they act like they forgot how to act

Puck (Mercedes):  
Eight million stories out there in it naked (Oh-wooh, woah)  
The city is a pity, half o' y'all won't make it  
Me, I got a plug Special Ed, "I Got It Made" (Woah-ooh-ooh)  
If Jesus payin' LeBron I'm payin' Dwayne Wade

Three-dice Cee-Lo (Whoa, ooh-ooh)  
Three-card Marley  
Labor Day Parade  
Rest in peace, Bob Marley  
Statue of Liberty (Whoa) (New Directions: Come on)  
Long live the World trade (New Directions: Come on, yeah-eah)  
Long live the kingdom (New Directions: Come on, yeah-eah)  
I'm from the empire state from

Santana with New Directions (Puck):  
New York (Rachel: New york) (Hey)  
Concrete jungle where dreams are made of  
There's nothing you can't do (That won't do) (Mercedes: You can't do, oh)

Now you're in New York (Rachel: You're in New York) (Welcome to the bright lights, baby)  
These streets will make (with Rachel: you feel brand new) (Mercedes: Brand new, baby)  
Big lights will (with Rachel: inspire you)

Let's hear it for New York (Mercedes: Oh)  
New York  
New York (Rachel: Yeah, hey)

Artie (Mercedes):  
Lights is blinding (Oh-ooh, wooh)  
Girls need blinders  
So they can step out of bounds quick  
The side lines is (Oh-ooh, woah)  
Lined with casualties  
Who sipping life casually  
Then gradually become worse  
Don't bite the apple Eve (Uuh, ooh)

Caught up in the in crowd  
Now your in-style  
End in the winter gets cold  
En Vogue with your skin out (Whoa, hoo)  
The city of sin is a pity on a whim  
Good girls gone bad  
The city's filled with them (Ooh, woah)

Finn (Mercedes):  
Mommy took a bus trip  
Now she got her bust out  
Everybody ride her  
Just like a bus route (Ooh-oh, oh)  
Hail Mary to the city, you're a virgin  
And Jesus can't save you  
Life starts when the church end (Yeah, yeah, yeah)

Came here for school  
Graduated to the high life  
Ball players, rap stars  
Addicted to the limelight (Oh, whoa)  
Dub MHS got you feeling like a champion (New Directions: Come on, yeah-eah) (Oh, woah)  
The city never sleeps (New Directions: Come on)  
Better slip you an Ambien (New Directions: Yeah-eah)

Santana with New Directions (New Directions):  
In (with Rachel: New York) (Finn: In, uh-huh)  
Concrete jungle where dreams are made of (Rachel: Hey, yeah)  
There's nothing (with Mercedes: you can't do) (You can't do)

Now you're in New York (Rachel: You're in New York) (Mercedes: Yeah, yeah, eh)  
These streets will make (with Rachel: you feel brand new) (Mercedes: New) (You feel brand new)  
Big lights will (with Mercedes and Rachel: inspire you) (Inspire you)

Let's hear it for New York  
New York (Mercedes: New York)  
New York (Rachel: Yeah, hey)

Mercedes with New Directions Girls:  
One hand in the air for the big city  
Street lights, big dreams all looking pretty  
No place in the world that could compare  
Put your lighters in the air

Finn and Mercedes with New Directions:  
Everybody say yeah, yeah (New Directions Girls: Come on, come on)  
Yeah, yeah (New Directions Girls: Come on)

Santana with New Directions (New Directions):  
In (with Mercedes: New York) (New York)  
Concrete jungle where dreams are made of (Mercedes: Jungle, yeah, yeah)  
There's nothing you can't do (You can't do)

Now you're in New York (Mercedes: New York, New York) (New York)  
These streets will make you feel brand new (Mercedes: Brand new) (Brand new)  
Big lights will (with Mercedes: inspire you) (Inspire you)

Let's hear it for New York (Mercedes: New York)  
New York (Mercedes: New York)  
New York (Mercedes: New York)

Hey, at least no one was throwing food at them. That was a plus.

…

The rest of the week was rather eventful, though thankfully that had less to do with slushies or locker slams than the antics of one Rachel Berry.

"You sent her to a crack house? Are you out of your ever loving mind? She could have been killed! That is low even for you, Rachel!"

"I know Kurt. I'm sorry! I just freaked out!"

"Why, because you finally realized there are actually people out there more talented than you? You are so selfish!"

He watched the shorter girl as she ran off crying, and shook his head.

…

5017 BC, a small fisherman's hut on the outskirts of Umir.

The two boys lay on the bed, so wrapped up in each other, they were oblivious to the storm that raged outside the tiny enclosure. Once their passion was spent, they lay side by side, staring adoringly into each other's eyes.

"I wish we could stay here forever." The pale boy said, tracing a hand over the smaller boy's hip.

"I wish we could, too. Sadly I must return to the palace soon. My Father is becoming suspicious, and my darling bride will be furious if I miss another meal."

Kur smiled playfully. "We should run away together. Take one of the fishing boats and just drift down the river and disappear."

"Sounds perfect, as long as we don't drown, or get eaten by crocodiles, or starve in the desert." Ablain laughed, and kissed his lover again.

"You should go, before the storm gets worse. I'll follow you shortly."

The prince sighed, but nodded, and after another sweet kiss, he slipped from the bed and dressed. He sent one more kiss towards the older boy as he left the tiny dwelling, heading back towards the secret entrance to the palace.

Kur lay back on the bed for several moments, smiling. While the law stated that the prince could have any lover he wished once he was married, they knew that their love wouldn't be accepted by the king. They didn't mind. They found opportunities to be together as often as they could, and they had a few sanctuaries such as this hut where they could slip away and not have to worry about royal duty or palace services.

When they were alone in their havens, they were just two boys in love.

With a sigh, Kur stood and began to dress. The sounds of the storm grew stronger. In the distance he could hear a strange rumbling. Concerned, he opened the door to investigate.

The wall of water swept him away before he even had a chance to flee. He was tumbled under the surface, thrown this way and that. The dark water rushed into his mouth as he tried to scream. His lungs burned for air. As the blackness began to take him, he had one last thought.

"I'm sorry, Ablain! I love you! I'll come back to you someday!"

…

Kurt woke up crying, unable to hold on to the memories of the dream.


	2. The Scribe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Had to brush up on my ancient Egyptian history for this chapter! I wonder if anyone will guess the significance of this time period and the location of this portion of our story? Hope you all love it! Again, all names are authentic to the time period.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS Please excuse my hieroglyphic puns...
> 
> Reviews are always welcome!

Akhetaten, Egypt, 1334 BC

He sat in the market place, the tools of his profession laid out before him; papyrus scrolls, moist clay tablets, reed styluses, and pots of ink made from soot and acacia gum mixed with water. Business had been slow this day. Bienra shifted his position in the shade of the palm tree beneath which he sat.

"Excuse me?" The curly haired boy looked up at the voice.

"May I help you, good citizen?"

"I hope so. I've been searching for a scribe with a clear hand and an articulate mind. You came highly recommended, despite your youth."

"Thank you. What can I do for you?"

The dark skinned young man sat before him. "I am David, servant to Takarut, the gem merchant. He is seeking a new tutor for his son, Amenmerassetkhert. He wishes the boy to be skilled in both reading and writing. The boy has had some education in this area, but his former tutor has recently married and has departed to be with his bride."

Bienra thought about this for a moment. "What recompense is there?"

"Room and board, plus two deben of silver every full moon."

After more deliberation, the curly haired scribe agreed, and gathered his things. Once all was stowed in his pack, he followed David to the merchant's home. The house itself was modest, though Bienra knew for certain that Takarut was one of the wealthiest citizens in the capitol city. The Pharaoh, Akhenaten, was one of the gem dealer's biggest customers.

"Takarut isn't here at the moment," David informed him. "He left this morning on an expedition sanctioned by Pharaoh himself. I will show you to your rooms, and then introduce you to Amenmerassetkhert."

He was shown to a small room at the back of the home, near the servants' quarters. He stowed his pack and once more followed the dark skinned servant out into a courtyard behind the home.

The first thing he noticed was the music. Someone was expertly playing the harp, and the sound was soothing and beautiful, but nothing compared to the voice that accompanied it. It was high and sweet, and the song pulled at something within the young scribe.

"Master Amenmerassetkhert," David addressed when the song was over, "I've brought your new tutor."

Bienra studied the boy. He appeared to be around sixteen, a year older than he himself was. His skin was shockingly pale and delicate looking. But what captured the scribe's attention were the eyes. He could think of a million words to describe those orbs. The color seemed to change with the boy's every move.

"Greetings, Master Amenmerassetkhert. I am Bienra."

The pale boy studied him for a moment, smiling shyly. "Hello. Please, call me Khert."

…

Blaine studied himself in the mirror, straightening his tie, smoothing his blazer, and making sure his dapper persona was in place.

It was a relief being back at Dalton, his haven. The summer months had worn him down some. Between his parents' constant arguing (about him), his father insisting that Blaine at least try to date girls, and putting up with all the thinly veiled aspersions thrown his way, slowly tearing at his self esteem, he was exhausted when he'd arrived at the school Sunday afternoon to settle into his dorm.

He'd greeted many of his friends when he'd arrived, eating dinner with Wes and David, before going to bed early Sunday night.

He met his eyes in the mirror, frowning at himself, then forced the amber orbs to get with the program, losing the defeated look and forcing the affable, good natured Warbler to shine through.

Finally satisfied that his masks were in place, he smiled at himself. "Showtime."

…

His first few classes of the new year flew by quickly, his dapper boy face only slipping slightly once before he managed to force it back in to place. By the time he entered the dining hall for lunch, he was whistling, smiling and seemed care free. He gathered his food and sat with the other Warblers, who greeted him warmly.

He laughed and joked with Thad and Nick. By the time they'd finished eating, Blaine once more felt comfortable in his own skin.

Wes nudged his shoulder. "Are you ready to do this?"

Blaine grinned. "Let's do it!"

Seemingly from out of nowhere, a beat began, and soon all the Warblers were on their feet, making music with their voices. And then Blaine began singing.

We are the crowd, we're c-comin' out  
Got my flash on, it's true  
Need that picture of you  
It so magical, we'd be so fantastical

Leather and jeans, garage glamorous  
Not sure what it means  
But this photo of us it don't have a price  
Ready for those flashing light  
'Cause you know that baby, I

I'm your biggest fan, I'll follow you until you love me  
Papa, paparazzi  
Baby, there's no other superstar, you know that I'll be  
Your papa, paparazzi

Promise I'll be kind  
But I won't stop until that boy is mine  
Baby, you'll be famous, chase you down until you love me  
Papa, paparazzi

I'll be your boy backstage at your show  
Velvet ropes and guitars  
Yeah, cause you're my rock star in between the sets  
Eyeliner and cigarettes

Shadow is burnt, yellow dance and we turn  
My lashes are dry, purple teardrops I cry  
It don't have a price, loving you is cherry pie  
Cause you know that baby, I

I'm your biggest fan, I'll follow you until you love me  
Papa, paparazzi  
Baby, there's no other superstar, you know that I'll be  
Your papa, paparazzi

Promise I'll be kind  
But I won't stop until that boy is mine  
Baby, you'll be famous, chase you down until you love me  
Papa, paparazzi

Real good, we dance in the studio  
Snap, snap to that shit on the radio  
Don't stop for anyone  
We're plastic but we still have fun

I'm your biggest fan, I'll follow you until you love me  
Papa, paparazzi  
Baby, there's no other superstar, you know that I'll be  
Your papa, paparazzi

Promise I'll be kind  
But I won't stop until that boy is mine  
Baby, you'll be famous, chase you down until you love me  
Papa, paparazzi

The cafeteria erupted in cheers and applause. People were patting him on the back, telling him how awesome he was. No one cared that he was gay. No one thought he was weak. No one thought that singing was a waste of his time. He sighed silently.

He loved being home.

…

Akhetaten, Egypt, 1334 BC

"No, no, that's not right. It's eye before Set, except after egret." Bienra corrected his pupil, smiling indulgently at the pale boy. The older boy was a quick study, he'd learned. His previous tutor had done an excellent job of teaching him to read not only Egyptian, but Nubian and Hittite, though he hadn't worked much on the boy's writing skills.

Now, after two weeks of lessons, they were translating a Hittite letter the boy's father had received months ago.

"Can we take a break? My hand is beginning to cramp." Khert asked in his soft, lilting voice.

"Of course. It is nearing time for the mid day meal anyway."

As soon as the pale boy stood, they both dropped the pretense of tutor and pupil, leaning into each other for a kiss.

"Mmmm, I wonder what I did to please the gods enough that they brought us together." Bienra murmured between kisses.

Khert scoffed. "Don't tell me you believe in that nonsense."

"You don't believe in the gods?"

"How can I when the pharaoh himself has decreed all but one of them to be false? Isn't he supposed to be the living god? How does that work, really? How can you be mortal and still be a god?"

Bienra couldn't argue with that, so instead just kissed the other boy again. "Well, whatever brought us together, I am thankful for it. Come on, let's see what Seteta has prepared for the noon day meal."

They reluctantly broke apart and made their way to the kitchens. Seteta, the cook, had long black hair pulled back off her face with ornamental combs, was feisty and fiery, always shouting at everyone. She glared at the two boys as they entered her domain. She berated them even as she filled a tray for them. She only mellowed when Bithiah, one of the maids, entered. The blonde girl was beautiful, graceful, and as intelligent as a palm date.

The two boys hid their knowing grins as the darker female gazed adoringly on the other girl. They ate in silence, secretly holding hands under the low slung table.

After the meal, they went out to the courtyard, where Khert took up his harp and began to play absently as the darker boy wandered among the flowers, smiling and humming under his breath. They began to sing the song softly to each other. It was one of their favorites. It was the story of two lovers who were fated to find each other in this world and in the after-world.

As the song came to an end, they were startled by a voice calling from inside the house. David came in to view in the doorway. "Master Amenmerassetkhert, I've received a message from your father. He wishes you to journey to Karnak to join him on his expedition. You are to leave at once."

"Karnak? Why?" The pale boy asked, not daring to look at Bienra.

"I do not know, the message just stated that he wished for you to accompany him for the rest of his excursion. Perhaps he wishes you to learn more about the business so that you will be prepared to take over one day."

"Who will travel with him?" Bienra inquired.

The dark skinned servant looked at him. "He will be accompanied by myself, as well as another servant. You are to accompany us as well." He turned his attention back to the paler boy. "You must hurry and pack for the trip, Master. We leave as soon as I've packed enough provisions for the journey."

…

By Wednesday afternoon, Blaine was settling back into the pace of classes, Warbler practice, and socializing with his friends. He was currently approaching the library to do some research for his World History project when his cell phone rang. He scowled when he saw the name.

"Dad? What's up?"

"Blaine, I want you to come home this Friday night for dinner. I've invited a new client to join us. He and his wife and their two children will be there. I want you to make a good impression on them."

The dark haired boy sighed inwardly. No doubt at least one of the "children" in question would be a girl around his age. "What time should I be there?"

"Dinner will be at seven. Oh, and one more thing. This client is very conservative. You will behave yourself and not let any of that homosexual nonsense slip out. And for heaven's sake, don't mention that singing club of yours. The last thing I want them to think is how frivolous that expensive prep school I send you to is!"

The phone clicked off, and Blaine frowned down at it, unaware that he was literally growling in frustration.

"Father dear being his usual anal retentive self?"

Blaine spun around at the voice, eyeing the blonde boy leaning against the wall. He smiled at Jeff, one of his best friends. They'd hit it off as soon as Blaine had transferred to Dalton the previous year. They'd gone out on a couple of dates, but there hadn't been any spark between the two of them, and they'd agreed that friends was all they'd be. The taller boy was now dating Nick, another Warbler, and from what Blaine could tell, it was pretty serious between the two.

"Yeah, he wants me to come home for dinner on Friday to impress his new, ultra conservative client and the client's family, no doubt including some perfectly suitable girl my father wants me to marry and produce offspring with."

Jeff laughed and linked arms with him, and they both entered the library, where Nick was already seated at a table. "Let me guess, he told you to hide the gay and keep your mouth closed about us debauched Warblers?"

Nick looked up at the two of them as they joined him. "Daddy setting you up with another debutante?"

Blaine just sighed as he set down his books and looked through his notes. "Of course. The only thing that will make the entire thing bearable is the fact that knowing Mom, she'll make my favorite beef casserole, which will make him mad, but he'll be forced to choke it down or look like an ass in front of the client."

The other two boys laughed and patted him on the shoulder sympathetically. They settled down to study, but Blaine couldn't keep his mind on which treaty the British violated with which ever Celtic tribes during whatever uprising.

Why couldn't his dad just accept him for himself? When he'd come out to them (separately) before the whole Sadie Hawkins incident, they'd both been upset, although in his mother's case it had to do with the fact that the perfect future wedding she'd imagined for her son seemed to be ripped from her grasp, and the hope for grand babies was vanishing in front of her eyes. Once he'd assured her that that wasn't necessarily the case, she'd hugged him and told him that she loved him, no matter what.

His father's reaction had been much worse. Once he'd stopped ranting about the abomination that was homosexuality, he'd berated Blaine about deliberately choosing this path to humiliate his father and ruin the business and lifestyle his father had so carefully crafted for them. After the Sadie Hawkins incident, his father had made it perfectly clear that he thought that Blaine had brought it upon himself.

The only reason he'd agreed to allow Blaine to transfer to Dalton was because of the school's prestigious reputation and the fact that many of the graduates went on to ivy league schools.

He supposed it could be worse. Many boys in his position were disowned by their families. As long as Blaine didn't act on his "unnatural" urges, it seemed his father preferred to maintain the lie of having the perfect family than living with the stigma of having an outcast in the family. It was bad enough that Cooper had gone into acting. His father only tolerated that fact due to the fact that his older brother had some small measure of success in the field, and he was dating an actress well known for her political views that matched their father's.

He went to bed early again that night, exhaustion filling him.

…

Akhetaten, Egypt, 1334 BC

Bienra sat beside the fire on the fifth night of their journey to Karnak, absently drawing on a sheet of papyrus, as Khert sat across from him, bent over a small slab of moist clay, carefully making markings with a reed stylus. David was sleeping in the tent, while Bek, the other servant stood watch some distance away. Bek was tall, lean, and scary looking with his hair shaved except the swath down the center. Bienra had learned from the other servants that Bek had a reputation with the females.

Khert stood and held out the small piece of clay he'd been working on. "Is this right?" He asked, eyes shy as they looked at his tutor. The curly haired boy took the tablet and saw the words "Bienra&Khert, Forever," carved perfectly into the surface. He smiled up at the pale boy.

"Perfect. We'll set it here by the fire to dry over night. It's getting late. You should get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day. We should reach Karnak around twilight."

The taller boy glanced over at Bek, who had gone behind a rock to relieve himself, and gave a quick kiss before moving in to the tent.

Bienra sighed. They'd barely had a moment alone since setting out. He'd been astonished at how quickly they had come to care for each other. In the three short weeks since he'd met the pale boy, he'd come to care for the older male deeply. He yearned for the day when they would lay together, sharing their bodies in the intimate embrace of lovers. Until then he had to contend himself with sweet kisses and stolen touches when they were alone.

He studied the drawing he'd been working on, wishing he could find the perfect shade of blue-green to capture the fair skinned boy's eyes. With another sigh, he put away his ink and papyrus, and went to lay on his pallet in the tent.

The next day, after the mid day meal, they entered the sandstone valley that denoted the last stretch of their journey. They traveled in silence for the most part. Bienra kept running his fingers over the tiny clay tablet that Khert had presented him with the night before, now dry, smiling to himself.

Forever. He liked the thought of that.

Suddenly Bek called out a warning as they began to pass through a passage of stone that was so narrow they had to walk single file, leading the pack camel behind them. "Careful, these walls are showing signs of recent landslides. Try not to disturb anything."

They proceeded slowly, as the canyon narrowed even more. Suddenly the camel, which Bienra, at the back of the group, was leading stopped and began to panic. Khert turned and cried out as a loud CRACK echoed sharply in the confined recesses of the ravine.

The dark haired boy felt the first rock strike him on the left shoulder, crying out at the sharp pain it caused. He turned to look at his pale skinned love, who strained to reach him but was held back by David and Bek. He took two steps forward towards them before the second rock slammed into him. The sound of bones cracking was lost among the roaring of thousands of smaller rocks raining down on him. Golden eyes locked on glasz, before a large stone crushed his skull.

Khert screamed in agony as he watched the boy he loved be buried under half the gully wall. When the rocks finally settled and the two servants freed him, he scrambled over the stones, trying to pull them off his tutor. Tears blinded him temporarily, but he swiped at them in frustration. He picked up a small flat rock and almost through it before he saw the words scratched into the surface.

Bienra&Khert, Forever. He screamed his anger at the gods, before he collapsed on the rocks, sobbing, his heart shattered.

…

Blaine sat up from his bed, unsure why tears were streaming down his face as the dream faded from his mind.


	3. Freeborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This portion of the story is based in part on one of the stories from the ruins of Pompeii, about two bodies found that appeared to be kissing at the moment of death! So romantic!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you all are enjoying this as much as I am! Please leave a review and tell me what you think, and feel free to point out any historical inaccuracies! If you aren't familiar with the Roman Empires' take on homosexuality and what freeborn has to do with it, see my notes at the end of the chapter.

Pompeii, 79 AD.

"Father, I can manage this task by myself," Barrius stated with a sigh of frustration. "I am not a child anymore. I don't need Caelus to watch over me."

Despite his short stature, the young male stood tall and straight, glaring at his older brother, who was laughing silently behind their father's back. Ten years separated the two boys, Caelus being twenty seven to Barrius' seventeen, and the older brother never failed to make the boy feel inadequate and inept.

Their father sighed and acquiesced. "Very well. Primus Juventius is waiting for the delivery. He will give you fifty drachma for it. Be sure you make him count it out. That old fraud keeps shorting me!"

"I shall make sure he counts it twice, then. Trust me, Father."

Minutes later, the dark haired boy was guiding the ox pulled cart towards the marketplace, humming to himself. The journey took most of the morning, and he spent the time making up songs to sing. He loved singing, to make music, though his father frowned on it. Singing was for the infamia, and beneath one of his standing.

He reached the marketplace, carefully making his way to the stalls where Primus was waiting.

"Greetings, young Barrius. Where is your shadow today?" The older male teased.

Barrius frowned at him. "I am alone today. I do not need a shadow any longer. I am quite capable of delivering a cart of urns to market on my own."

"I can see that, though I am surprised your father agreed. Now, help me unload these and then I shall fetch your payment."

"Not so fast, old man," the boy grasped the other male's sleeve. "Payment first, and Father requests that you count it out to be certain there are no misunderstandings."

The older man laughed, and shook his head. "Very well, young master."

A short time later, the transaction completed and the urns unloaded, Barrius wandered through the marketplace, stopping here and there to study the various wares. He purchased some honey cakes and milk for his lunch, when he spied his friend, Nicolus. He called out to the other boy.

"Barrius! I see you have managed to convince your father to cut the cord."

They both laughed. "What brings you here today, Nicolus?"

The other boy grinned. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Of course!"

Nicolus looked around to make certain no one was listening before speaking. "I am meeting my lover."

"You jest!"

"It's true, but we must meet in secret. He is also freeborn."

Barrius' eyes went wide. "But that is..."

"Shh! I know it is frowned upon, but I do not care! I love him, and he loves me! Why should we care what others think?"

The shorter boy smiled at his friend. "I am happy for you. Tell me about him?"

He listened as the other boy talked rapturously of the tall, blonde love of his life. They parted a short while later, and Barrius returned to his cart. As he made his way out of the marketplace, he began to sing again, unaware that he'd attracted the notice of glasz eyes.

…

"So how was the dinner with your parents?" Nick asked as he sat down to lunch on Monday.

Blaine smiled at him. "Surprisingly pleasant. Mr. and Mrs. Mercer were insufferable, but their children were actually quite entertaining."

Nick raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh? Do tell."

The curly haired boy laughed. "Well, Julia and Jeremiah are twins, a couple of years older than me. She's a lovely girl, big green eyes, and a tongue that can cut you at fifty paces. The three of us were laughing so hard at our end of the table. The 'adults' were pleased that we were getting along so well."

"So, Julia, huh?"

Blaine laughed louder. "Julia, who's girlfriend plays soccer at OSU."

Nick grinned at the irony. "Let me guess, her parents are trying to hook her up with a nice boy?"

"Exactly. But as it is, all of our parents' plans backfired. Turns out Jeremiah plays for our team, as well. We hit it off pretty well. Unfortunately they live in Cincinnati. But it was nice talking with both of them, anyway."

"I'm glad you enjoyed a family dinner for a change."

Blaine smiled, though the memory of his father's interrogation after the guests had left was still sharp in his mind. The elder Anderson demanded to know how he'd gotten along with the Mercer girl, completely ignoring the brother. When asked if he'd asked the girl out, he'd reminded his father that the girl in question lived several hours away, but his dad had waved that off as unimportant.

He'd returned to Dalton as early as he could Saturday morning.

…

Kurt slammed his locker shut in frustration. Why did Mr. Schue have to be so pig headed? Why couldn't he understand that this wasn't the 1990's anymore, and that his song selections were outdated and boring. They'd all been excited about Kurt's idea of doing Britney. Well, everyone except Brittany. Weird girl.

He was so lost in thought, he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings. The sensation of hands on him reminded him of his location mere seconds before his shoulder collided with metal.

"Watch where you are going, fag!"

The pale boy pushed himself away from the locker and looked around. No less then sixteen people had witnessed the blatant attack, but not a single one of them even bothered to ask if he was okay. Glaring at the one girl who glanced at him guiltily, he straightened his clothes, and lifting his chin, marched out of the building.

He held himself together all the way home, managing not to cry until he'd reached his bedroom and had thrown himself down on the mattress.

…

Pompeii, 79 AD

"Are you even paying attention to a word I am saying, brother?"

The fair skinned boy didn't respond, his mind was elsewhere, his eyes searching for a glimpse of laughing melted gold orbs in the marketplace, ears straining to hear a beautiful tenor voice.

"Curtius, your robe is on fire."

"What?" The pale boy finally acknowledged the much taller boy beside him. "I'm sorry, Phineas, I guess I have been distracted."

"Distracted, little brother?"

Curtius frowned at his step sibling. "You may be taller than I am, but I am still older than you by three months."

"Fine, then tell me what had your mind wandering so far off even the gods would have had trouble finding it."

The pale boy scowled at him. "That is none of your business. Perhaps you should go find something to eat and leave me in peace?"

Phineas frowned at him, but then grinned as he ran off to get some food without so much as a farewell. Not that Curtius cared. All he'd thought about for the last week was the golden eyed boy with the beautiful voice.

Curtius wandered through the various vendors, still searching for the mystery boy. He had purchased some silks, and a few items for his chambers earlier, and now was just idly browsing. He spotted a young man weaving baskets near the fountain.

"Atrius! How is business?"

The younger boy looked up at him, squinting nearsightedly. "Curtius! Business is good. I have not seen you for a while. How have you been?"

The pale boy smiled and sat down on a woven mat beside the other boy. "I am good. I am glad I ran into you today. I wanted to thank you for the baskets you made for Father and Cicereia's wedding. They were perfect for holding the flower arrangements."

Curtius glanced around them, then back at the other boy, studying him for a moment. Atrius was often at the marketplace, and though his eyesight was not the greatest, many people came to buy basket and other woven items from the boy with the atrophied legs. Perhaps the weaver knew the golden eyed boy?

"Atrius, I am looking for someone, but I do not know his name. Perhaps you have seen him or know who he is? He is shorter than I am, with dark curly hair, and golden eyes?"

The younger boy considered for a moment. "I know of a couple of boys who fit that description. Flavius Nigellus is the baker's son. He is twelve, but tall for his age. And Barrius Propertius, son of the marble merchant, Gaius. He just turned seventeen. His father is overbearing and often demanding. Poor Barrius tries his best to please him, but nothing ever seems to be good enough."

"Barrius? Do you know where I might find him?"

Atrius glanced at him curiously, but did not ask any questions. "He should be arriving soon with a load of marble urns for Primus Juventius."

Curtius smiled widely. "Thank you, Atrius! Farewell my friend!"

The pale boy stood to go find the merchant in question, but before he had taken even a single step, the ground began to shake. He leaned against the fountain to steady himself as they waited out the minor earthquake. No one panicked, they were used to these minor quakes now and then. Sure enough the rumbling settled after a minute, and people resumed their various tasks.

Curtius looked back to make sure the younger boy was alright before making his way to Primus' shop.

The fates were with him, for there, just unloading the last of the urns from his cart, was the golden eyed beauty. Curtius could only stand there and stare as the boy's muscles rippled, sweat coating them as he lifted down the marble vessel. The dark boy said something to the older merchant, who laughed and patted the boy on the shoulder.

The boy took the money the merchant counted out for him, and then leaving his cart, walked towards the marketplace. The boy was only a few feet away when his golden eyes spotted Curtius, and widened in surprise.

…

"Something bothering you, kiddo?" Burt asked that night at dinner. "You seem awfully quiet, and you keep rubbing your shoulder like it hurts."

Kurt shrugged. "I think I pulled a muscle in PE today, that's all."

"You sure that's all?"

Kurt just shrugged. He knew he should tell his dad about the locker shoves and everything else, but he didn't want to burden his dad with any of that. He knew his dad was still getting harassed for having a gay son. He didn't want to make it any harder on him."I'm fine, Dad. Like I said, it's just a pulled muscle from PE. Do you want dessert now? I made sorbet."

The older male smiled. "Sounds good, whatever it is."

…

"Where's Kurt?" Mercedes asked Tuesday at lunch. "He wasn't in English last period. I know he came to school this morning, cause I saw him talking to Artie before second period."

Tina looked around, just noticing the boy wasn't there. "He was in geometry second period, but I haven't seen him since. Was he in history third period, Brittany?"

The blonde girl looked confused. "I have history third period?"

The other two girls growled in frustration, rolling their eyes. "Come on, let's go see if we can find him."

It took most of the lunch period, but they finally found the boy in the girls' bathroom near the gym. He was sitting on the floor, covered in red, purple, and green slush. The fact that he hadn't bothered to wash it off yet made the two girls concerned.

"Baby, what happened? Are you okay? Should we get the nurse?"

His armor cracked, and suddenly he was crying on the dark girl's shoulder.

Mercedes looked up at Tina, not sure what to say or do. She hugged him, and ran her hand soothingly over his back. After a few minutes, he pulled himself together. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to breakdown like that."

"Hey, it's ok, White Boy. Everyone has their limits. What happened?"

Tina handed him a tissue and he blew his nose and wiped his eyes. "The usual. Azimio and a few other jocks slushied me, hurling homophobic insults. I don't know why I reacted so badly this time. I'm just so tired. Tired of them, tired of the insults, tired of the pushing. I'm just tired of everything."

"We understand, Kurt," Tina said. "I just hope you know there are people here who appreciate you. I mean, you're the only one who can stand up to Rachel most of the time. And your witty comebacks always make me laugh."

Kurt smiled at them. "Thanks, girls. It's nice to know somebody appreciates me."

Mercedes hugged him again. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up. The bell is going to ring any minute. Do you have a change of clothes?"

…

Pompeii, 79 AD

The two boys just stared at each other for a moment, each thinking the same thought, that the other was the most beautiful they had ever seen. Finally, Barrius smiled shyly.

"Hello, I am Barrius."

"I know." The pale boy blushed. "I mean, I am Curtius. You sing beautifully."

The dark haired boy looked confused, and Curtius realized his mistake at once. His blush deepened. "I heard you singing last week. I asked Atrius, the weaver about you."

It was the darker boy's turn to blush. "Thank you. You are the first person to compliment me on my singing. Father feels it is beneath my position."

"Really? I sing all the time. My father enjoys it. I sang at his wedding last month."

Barrius smiled. "I would like to hear you sing."

The taller boy smiled. "Come with me!"

He took the other boy's hand and lead him out of the marketplace to an outcropping just outside the city that overlooked the bay.

"It is beautiful here," Barrius exclaimed.

"I love coming out here," The pale boy said, sitting. "My mother used to bring me here when I was little. I would sit beside her on the rocks and make circlets of spring time flowers for her to wear in her hair while she sang to me."

"She sounds lovely. I would like to meet her."

The taller boy's smile faltered. "She died."

The darker boy sat down beside him and took his hand. "I am sorry. What would she sing to you?"

The glasz eyed boy thought for a few moments, then began to sing a song about two lovers searching for each other. Barrius was amazed at the perfection of the older boy's voice. The notes floated on the mild, salt scented breeze, wrapping around the two boys.

When the song ended, the two boys talked and laughed, and sang some more. After a while, they sat in a companionable silence, just enjoying the fine day. Barrius glanced over at the other boy and saw that sea colored eyes were watching him. Suddenly the pale boy leaned forward and brushed their lips together.

The darker boy pulled away. "What are you doing?" He asked in shock.

The fair boy looked confused. "I-I thought..."

Barrius jumped to his feet. "We are both freeborn! It is forbidden!"

"But..." Curtius was on the verge of tears.

"I can not do this. I have to go." And the darker boy took off running back to the marketplace, to his cart.

Barrius fought the tears in his eyes as he guided the cart through the streets. Yes, he had been attracted to the boy with marble skin, but nothing could come of it. Even if the law were not a hindrance, his father would never approve of it. His father already found every opportunity to point out his flaws and weaknesses. He would not give the man another thing to find fault with.

…

Blaine growled in frustration. Another demand from his father to come home for Friday dinner with clients. He paced his dorm room, anxiety building inside him. Why couldn't his father just love him for who he was, instead of trying to make him someone else, something else?

Feeling like a caged tiger, he left his dorm room and headed downstairs to the Warbler's practice room. He sat down at the piano and began playing, losing himself in the music. After a while he began to sing.

I want someone to love me  
For who I am  
I want someone to need me  
Is that so bad?  
I wanna break all the madness  
But it's all I have  
I want someone to love me  
For who I am

Nothing makes sense, nothing makes sense anymore  
Nothing is right, nothing is right when you're gone  
I'm losing my breath, I'm losing my right to be wrong  
I'm frightened to death, I'm frightened that I won't be strong

I want someone to love me  
For who I am  
I want someone to need me  
Is that so bad?  
I wanna break all the madness  
But it's all I have  
I want someone to love me  
For who I am

I'm shaking it off, I'm shaking off all of the pain.  
Breaking my heart, breaking my heart once again

I want someone to love me  
For who I am  
I want someone to need me  
Is that so bad?  
I wanna break all the madness  
But it's all I have  
I want someone to love me  
For who I am

Are you gonna love me?  
Yeah  
For who I am

I want someone to love me  
For who I am  
I want someone to need me  
Is that so bad?  
I wanna break all the madness  
But it's all I have  
I want someone to love me  
For who I am

Yeah, who I am

As the music faded away, Blaine made a decision. He refused to let his father define him anymore. If the man couldn't accept him for who he was, then Blaine didn't need him in his life.

He took out his phone and dialed. Taking a deep breath, he hit send.

"Dad? Yes, I got your text, but I'm afraid I can't come to dinner this week. No, Dad, I'm done jumping through hoops for you. If you can't accept me for who I am, then there is nothing more for us to talk about. I'm never going to be attracted to girls. I'm gay, and you need to understand that. It's not a choice I made, it just is."

…

Pompeii, 79 AD

Barrius barely slept at all the next couple of days. All he could think about was the pale boy with eyes as changeable as the seas. He felt guilty for running away that day. He saw how he had hurt the other boy with his rejection.

As he lay in his bed, he thought about his friend Nicolus, and how he had found love, even if it was forbidden. They were happy. Could he be happy with Curtius? Did it matter what his father thought? What society thought? Perhaps they could go away together. There must be somewhere they could be with each other. Would the fair skinned boy want to go away with him? He had a family that loved him, whom he loved.

A low rumble sounded, and the ground beneath him began to shift and shake. This quake seemed worse than the one a few days ago, knocking things from shelves and lasting longer.

Eventually the Earth settled, and Barrius drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, the dark haired boy set out to the marketplace, seeking out the beautiful fair skinned Curtius. He had decided that his father was never going to accepted him as he was anyway. He was done trying to please the older male.

He'd just reached the open market when a much stronger quake hit. Cracks appeared in the ground in some areas, and a few stone walls began to crumble. People were screaming and seeking shelter. The shaking seemed to go on forever, and suddenly the skies seemed to slowly darken.

Stones and ash began to rain down, and the air became hard to breathe. Pandemonium broke out, as people began to flee towards the bay, seeking refuge on boats to take them away from the destruction.

Barrius couldn't think about anything but finding Curtius. He had to tell the older boy how he felt, and apologize for the other day. He ran through the streets, searching for a hint of marble skin and storm surge eyes.

He searched for hours as the mid day light turned dark as night. Screams of terror and pain mingled with shouts for loved ones missing in the chaos. And still he searched, knowing it was hopeless. The air grew hotter with every breath, soot burned his eyes, and bits of pumice burned his skin as it continued to fall from the sky.

And suddenly, miraculously, as if preordained by the fates, the beautiful boy was there, in front of him.

"Curtius!" The pale boy just stood there, looking at him, uncertainty in his eyes. "I am so sorry! I shouldn't have run away the other day. I have never met anyone like you before. I have never felt like this. I love you, and I did not want to die without telling you!"

"I love you too, Barrius! I knew the moment I saw you that I loved you. How cruel fate is to bring us together as the world ends around us!"

"Then let us face the end together." He took the pale boy by the hand and lead him to the outcropping of rock, and they sat, kissing as the world turned to fire, and the ash rained down. Even death could not part them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Ok, a little history lesson on sex and ancient Rome. Those old Romans had some rather unusual views about homosexual relationships. You see, masculinity was defined by not only your strength and prowess in battle, but who you slept with and what position you took during the act of sex. If you were a freeborn (Upper and middle class, basically) male, you could pretty much have sex with almost anyone you wanted to, male or female, but only if you were the dominate party (Top). If you were freeborn and took the submissive (Bottom) position, you would be seen as weak and unmasculine, and could lose your freeborn status. So, men having sex with male slaves or prostitutes was seen as good, while men having sex with their peers was bad.
> 
> If you want more information on the whole sordid history, google Homosexuality and the Roman Empire, and go to the wiki page.


	4. Spoils of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Romans! Those pesky conquerors were everywhere for a long time! This era isn't one I've studied before, so much of this is new to me. I hope I do it justice.
> 
> Also, this part takes place during Grilled Cheesus, which was a very emotional episode, and I'm really not sure I can add much to that portion of this chapter, so giving credit where credit is due to the Glee writers for the awesome dialogue. Because I don't want to tamper with the episode too much, this chapter will probably be a bit shorter than the others.

Rome, 410 AD

"I am sorry, young Tertius. Your father was a great man. He will be much missed by the citizens of Rome. My brother, the emperor, shall know of his bravery."

The pale young man only nodded, not speaking. He knew it was rude not to reply to the noble woman addressing him, but he simply wished to be alone to grieve for the only family he had had. At the age of eighteen he was an orphan, his mother having died when he was but a child of seven. Now his father had been gored to death by an enraged bull that had broken loose in the streets. His father, a member of the imperial guard for the household of Galla Placidia, sister to Emperor Honorius, had placed himself between the animal and several small children, saving their lives.

He was proud of his father's actions, of course, but the fact that he died a hero did not make him any less dead.

He could hear other voices whispering behind him urgently. He wished they would all just go away and allow him to cry. In the distance, someone began to scream. Soon many voices were shouting and crying out in fear.

"Tertius, we must flee," Placidia beseeched him. "The Goths are invading. Come, it is not safe here."

The boy spoke for the first time since his father's death the day before. "Leave me. I care not if I live now. Everything has been taken from me. Flee if you must, but I will not."

The screams and shouts drew nearer as the advancing Goths pillaged and sacked the city. He could hear the servants and the noble woman as they made preparations to escape. He remained stoically were he was, staring out at the former capital of the greatest Empire ever known. He could see smoke rising throughout the city. Could hear the shouts of the invading army, the screams of the citizens. None of it mattered.

"Tertius, please, come with us. He would not want you to give up like this."

The young man was not given a choice though, for at that moment the doors were forced open, and the invading Goths swarmed in. The servants screamed in fear, the guards fighting against overwhelming odds.

The boy with the sea change eyes sat impassively, uncaring. He listened to the brief struggle as the guards were overwhelmed, the sobbing of the women, the pleas of the servants. He heard Placidia regally surrender to spare her household. He heard the invaders rounding everyone up. He even heard someone calling for him to move over with the other captives. He ignored them.

"Please, he is heart sick from grief," the noble lady implored. "Leave him be."

And then another voice spoke in a tone of command that was unmistakable. "What is taking so long in here?"

"Captain Borani, sir. The household is secured save for the boy there. The lady proclaims that he is in mourning and will not move."

The young captain surveyed the situation, and nodded to his soldiers. "Very well. We shall set up a temporary base here until the rest of Rome is ours. Secure the servants in their quarters and set guards. The Lady and her maid may remain here with the boy. Send a messenger to Alaric and let him know that Lady Galla Placidia is our prisoner."

The captain approached the boy, giving him a wide berth as he circled around in front of him and knelt, examining his face. Melted gold searched eyes that were fascinating in their range of blues and greens and grays. For a moment there was a flicker of interest in those jeweled orbs, but then they shuttered once more.

…

"We didn't start the riot, the fire alarm did!" Kurt argued. "Maybe the song selection wasn't the best, but they can't blame us for causing a panic!"

The others agreed with him. In the end, though, they agreed that perhaps they'd had enough Britney for now, and moved on to the next musical genre.

Monday rolled around, and he was excited. This Friday was Sing along Sound of Music, and he couldn't wait to see it. Yeah, he was a little upset about the argument he and his dad had had that morning. He loved Carole, and was glad she and his dad were getting along so well, but this was something that was very important to him. It was something that he had shared with his mother before her death, something that made him feel like she was still there with him.

He was talking about it in French class (though he expected no one but the teacher had a clue what he was talking about, as his French was nearly fluent and most of the kids in the class could barely read the french primer they used), when the door opened. He was surprised when Mr. Shue asked him to step out into the hall with Ms. Pillsbury.

The petite ginger cleared her throat, and the expression on her face was disconcerting. "Kurt, I just got a call from Lima General Hospital. Your father was brought in about an hour ago, in critical condition."

"Dad? What's wrong? What happened?" His vision was tunneling. In his head all he could hear was the doctor, telling them that his mother was dead. His dad couldn't die. This couldn't be happening.

…

When he was finally left alone with his dad in the hospital room, he had to fight the panic welling up inside him. He finally understood the difference between lonely and alone. He was lonely at McKinley. Yeah, he had friends, but they really didn't understand him. They had new relationship drama on a daily basis. None of them could see how lonely he was. Now if he lost his dad, he'd be alone, as well. He didn't think he could handle that.

"Dad? Can you hear me?" He whispered, taking his father's hand. "If you can hear me, squeeze my hand." Please, please, please, Daddy, squeeze my hand. "I'm holding yours right now. Just squeeze back. Come on, Dad. Just squeeze my hand."

…

Rome, 410 AD

The captain continued to monitor his soldiers from Placidia's home, keeping in touch with their leader, Alaric through messengers. The spoils they had taken were gathered here to be packed up and taken with them when they left. Screams and shouts could still be heard in the streets.

None of it phased Tertius. Nothing mattered. He was alone. He had nothing, no one left. He wished they would just kill him and end it all.

He heard the men coming and going, heard them talking. He heard Placidia and her maid whispering. So far the captain had treated her respectfully. He had allowed a few of her servants to prepare them a meal, closely supervised by his men, of course. Time passed, though Tertius had no idea how long.

Those golden eyes were in front of him again. The captain knelt there, holding out a plate of food. "You should eat something."

The pale man did not reply. The darker male sat cross legged, setting the plate in his lap. When he spoke, his voice was soft, quiet, his words for the two of them alone. "I know you feel like there is nothing worth living for right now, but you must at least attempt to eat something."

He held out the plate to Tertius again. Gem faceted eyes actually focused on the other man for the first time. Dark curly hair framed a face that seemed more used to laughter than command. Lips that seemed sinfully indulgent fought not to quirk up in a grin.

"Why do you care?" The fair skinned man asked.

The dark one shrugged. "No one should suffer needlessly. I lead not by choice. My father forced me to join Alaric's service. I try to use my position to make certain the men do not get too out of hand."

Tertius studied him. "But why do you care if I eat or not? I have nothing to live for. If you want to show me mercy, then take your sword and run me through."

The dark one just sighed and looked down at the plate of food. "Tell me, then. Tell me about the one you morn. Who were they?"

Storm colored eyes blinked in confusion. "My father. He died saving the lives of some children."

Borani nodded. "Brave, and selfless. What of your mother?"

Tertius shifted, the first time he had moved in nearly twenty four hours. "She died when I was seven. An epidemic spread through the city that year. Many died."

"What do you remember of her?"

The pale man shifted again. "She was beautiful, kind, and loved by so many. She loved to sing."

Borani smiled. "My mother used to sing to me when I was younger."

A ghost of a smile flitted across pale pink lips. "I would sing with her. She always made me smile. And then she was gone."

A tear slipped free from a glasz eye. "And now my father is gone as well. I am alone."

As if a dam had broken, the fair young main crumpled into a ball and sobbed. The captain moved closer and stroked the other male's back soothingly, whispering assurances and words of comfort, until Tertius fell into an exhausted sleep.

…

Hospital chairs make lousy beds. Kurt was quickly learning this. He tossed and turned most of the night, though that could have been more from fear and worry as well. When an alarm sounded on the monitor behind his dad's bed at 2:30 in the morning, he nearly went out of his mind with panic, until a nurse came in and assured him that it was fine, it was just telling them that it was time to change the IV. Kurt despised hospitals.

He dragged himself home around five to get ready for school, his second least favorite place to be. Exhaustion dragged at him through out the day, and by the time Glee came around, all he wanted to do was get back to his dad. So when Finn started yelling at him for not telling him about Burt, Kurt wanted to lash out, but managed to control himself.

At least until they had to bring religion into it. He hadn't believed in God for a very long time. He had never belittled any of them for their faiths, so he was shocked when they attacked him for his non-belief. It had been the final straw, and he'd lost control of his temper a little. He'd reigned it in before he could really start shouting, though.

Now he sat in that damn uncomfortable bed again, reading the newspaper to his dad, convinced that his father could hear him. He was reading the sports section, adding his own color comments to the stories. Every now and then he'd try and get his dad to squeeze his hand again, but each time he was disappointed when there was no response.

This routine went unchanged for the next few days, and each passing day without a response sent him deeper into a spiral of depression. He was increasingly irritable, and had even thrown the girls from Glee club out of his dad's hospital room when they'd wanted to have a prayer vigil for his dad, as if words could actually make everything better. He did feel a little guilty for being rude to them.

The next day in class, He decided to sing his feelings.

"On the day of my Mom's funeral, when they were lowering her body into the ground, I was crying. I mean, that was it. It was the last time I was ever going to see her, and I remember I looked up at my dad I just wanted him to say something, just something to make me feel like my whole world wasn't over, and he just took my hand and squeezed it. And just knowing those hands were there to take care of me...that was enough. This is for my Dad."

Yeah, I'll tell you something  
I think you'll understand  
When I'll say that something  
I wanna hold your hand

I wanna hold your hand  
I wanna hold your hand

Oh, please, say to me  
You'll let me be your man  
And please, say to me  
You'll let me hold your hand

Now let me hold your hand  
I wanna hold your hand

And when I touch you, I feel happy inside  
It's such a feeling that my love I can't hide  
I can't hide, I can't hide

Yeah, you've got that something  
I think you'll understand  
When I'll feel that something  
I wanna hold your hand

I wanna hold your hand  
I wanna hold your hand  
I wanna hold your hand

…

Rome, 410 AD

The pale man was awoken the next morning by Placidia's hand gently shaking his shoulder. "Tertius, wake up. We are being moved."

Cerulean eyes blinked in confusion. His mind was sluggish, his head felt full of wool. It took him several minutes to understand anything. The curly haired captain of the Goths came over with another plate of food.

"Here, you need to eat. We will be heading out shortly."

"I am not going anywhere."

"You have no choice. Alaric has agreed to spare the other servants, but you, Lady Galla Placidia, and her maid have been declared spoils of war. We will be taking you with us."

"You may as well kill me. I have nothing to live for. Slay me now, or I shall simply starve myself to death."

Borani sighed. "You are too blinded by grief now. Surely you can understand that it will get better eventually."

"Better? When you are taking me hostage, declaring me spoils of war? Death is so much better than a life of slavery."

The darker man growled in frustration. "You will be ransomed by Honorius, along with his sister. You will not be enslaved."

Before the pale one could respond, a soldier arrived. "Captain, a message from Alaric. He requests that we make haste with the valuables. The other troops will remain here and continue with our mission, but the hostages are too valuable to remain."

The shorter man nodded his acknowledgment. "Very well, let us take leave of this place. Lady, Placidia, I trust you will cooperate for the sake of the other members of your household."

"I gave you my word, Captain. I will uphold our agreement."

"Good. You and your maid go with Saba," he indicated the soldier at the door. He then turned to the other male. He reached to pull him to his feet. He was taken by surprise when the frail looking man attacked him.

There was a struggle, one of the soldiers shouted out a warning as Tertius managed to relieve Borani of his sword. The captain shouted a warning not to harm the bereaved man, but it was too late. Marble skin was pierced by a sword through the heart.

Borani shouted in denial, catching the slender body as it began to fall. Melted gold latched on to shocked blue green. "No! Please, no!"

Blood trickled from the corner of that pale pink mouth, a breath was exhaled, and then the eyes faded into grey as the light left them.

…

When Kurt entered the hospital room Monday after school, he felt a little better than he had. He was glad he had gone with Mercedes yesterday. He still didn't believe in God, but there was something he believed in, and it gave him a sense of peace. He looked at his dad in the hospital bed, and smiled.

"You never could dress yourself," he quipped as he began to fix the hospital gown. He sat down, taking his father's hand, and talked to him about the church service on Sunday, and how it reminded him of that first Friday night supper after his mom died.

"I don't believe in God, Dad. But I believe in you." Kurt couldn't stop the tears as they began to fall. "And I believe in us. You and me, That's what's sacred to me. And I am...I'm so sorry I never got to tell you that."

Tears were falling freely now, and he almost didn't notice the finger slowly twitching against his hand.


	5. Magic and Mayhem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still in Roman times, but now a bit further north! I had to do this time period, it's part of the series canon! I figured if Kurt had to study Charlemagne, I had to as well!
> 
> I decided to change things up a bit in this story. Past Kurt's Mom is alive in this part! Also, to remove any confusion, the present day portion still takes place during Grilled Cheesus, but from Blaine's point of view.

Verden, 782 AD

By proclamation of his majesty, King Charles I, if any one of the race of the Saxons hereafter concealed among them shall have wished to hide himself unbaptized, and shall have scorned to come to baptism and shall have wished to remain a pagan, let him be punished by death.

"What does it mean, Father?" Beric asked, the breeze making his curly hair dance around his face.

"It means the king wants to force us to worship his god, and none other. We are to forget the old ways and submit to their baptism, or be put to death."

"What shall we do?" The golden eyed youth asked.

"We will do as the king commands, of course. I am sure some of these fools will pretend to appease the king, but will secretly keep the trappings of the past. Best not to tempt fate, though."

Beric nodded his head, because it was expected of him. "I am going to go pick the berries Mother wanted. I shall return home soon."

His father barely acknowledged him. He took two small baskets and wandered into the woods, searching for the wild berries. After a while, he heard the sound of a lute, and laughter in the distance. Intrigued, he followed it to a meadow near the river Aller. He stopped, fascinated by the sight there among the spring flowers.

A beautiful woman sat on a tree stump, expertly playing the instrument, and singing a song of love and happiness. Nearby, a lithe figure laughed and danced, its movements alluring and graceful. Sunlight made the auburn hair glow like fire, his skin shown like polished marble, while glimpses of blue and green could be spotted in its eyes. Beric was certain the being was a wood nymph, drawn out by the woman's music.

Beric couldn't take his eyes off the creature. Surely something that beautiful could not possibly be human. But it was. The ethereal being was a boy, in his mid teens, not much older than he himself was. The dark haired boy watched, concealed by the trees, as the auburn haired nymph continued to twirl and sway, his laugh seeming part of the music itself.

As the song came to an end, the boy refused to stop dancing. "Again, Mother! Please? Do not stop yet!"

The woman laughed. "Should you not eat first, Cuthwin? All that dancing, you must be famished by now! Come along, my son, it is time for the noon day meal."

The boy sighed, still swaying to music only he could hear. "If I must."

"Beric!" A voice called out, startling him, and drawing the attention of the pale boy and woman, though they could not see him from their position.

Growling in frustration, Beric turned to see the tall form of Sexmund Stanier, a boy who had been pursuing him for the last several months, despite the fact that Beric had made it plain he was not interested. He moved away from the meadow, resigned.

"What do you want, Sexmund?"

The brunette boy smiled down at him arrogantly. "I saw you heading into the woods and thought you might need someone to protect you from the bears and the wolves."

The shorter boy frowned. "I am perfectly fine on my own, Sexmund. I have been in the woods alone hundreds of times, and have never seen a bear or a wolf. Thank you for your concern, but I do not need any help."

The taller boy stepped closer. "Then perhaps we could just get to know each other better. You fascinate me, Beric. I want to know everything about you." As he spoke he reached out and caressed the shorter boy's cheek.

Beric stepped away from the touch. "I have told you, I am not interested in you that way. Please, why do you not find someone else to go annoy?"

"Come on, beautiful, you know we would be perfect together."

"I believe he asked you to leave him alone." The voice was dulcet and lyrical, but the tone brooked no argument. The two boys turned as one to the fair creature standing a few feet away. He had appeared so silently, without either one noticing. Once more Beric thought the boy must truly be a wood nymph after all.

Sexmund sneered at the new comer. "This has nothing to do with you. We were having a pleasant conversation."

"Ah, yes, so pleasant, the boy told you to go annoy someone else. Now, are you going to leave him alone, or will I have to make you?"

The taller boy scoffed. "You think you can force me to do anything?"

The fair boy grinned widely. Then shouted. "Eawyn, Alwyn!"

A moment later, two large black wolves appeared at the boy's side. Sexmund took one look at the snarling beasts and shoved Beric in front of him, cowering behind the smaller boy. The pale boy laughed. "Begone, before my friends decide you would make a tasty meal!"

Sexmund took off at a dead run, but Beric was frozen to the spot. What magic was this? The laughing boy gave a command, and both wolves suddenly rolled over, paws in the air, tongues hanging out. The darker boy watched in awe as the pale one knelt down and rubbed first one exposed belly, then the other, speaking to the beasts.

"Thank you, sister Eawyn, and Alwyn, my brother, you did good! Go, mother is waiting for you with a treat."

The two large animals sat up, licking the pale face once each before racing away. And then Beric fond faceted gem eyes focused on him. He was speaking before his mind could catch up with his words.

"What manner of creature are you?"

Musical laughter bubbled up from the pale boy. "I am Cuthwin, son of Cuthburt the carver. You are Beric, son of Andhere of Brecott, the ealdorman."

"How do you know who I am?"

The other boy laughed again. He seemed to laugh a lot. "Everyone knows who you are. Are you hungry? Mother was about to serve the mid day meal when we heard the disturbance. Join us."

Beric hesitated. "I should gather the berries for my mother and get home. Father will be expecting me."

The pale boy's smile faltered a little, but he just shrugged it off. "Good day to you then. Perhaps we shall meet again some day."

…

Blaine walked into his house Monday afternoon, trying not to draw attention to himself. His mother had called at lunch time that day to ask him to come home for a family meeting. She wouldn't tell him what it was going to be about, but he could make a guess. After his phone call with his dad the week before and the fact that he'd refused to go home at all that weekend, he pretty much knew the meeting would be about him, and his 'condition.'

His mother came out of the kitchen and spotted him. She smiled and hugged him, kissing him on the cheek. "Don't look so gloomy, Blaine. I promise, this won't be as bad as you are thinking. Your father is waiting in the library."

They walked arm in arm. "I just don't know if I want to deal with this now, Mom. "We've been through this over and over."

She smiled at him, but didn't say a word as they entered the spacious room. His father sat in a wing-backed chair, legs crossed. A glass of scotch sat on the small round table beside him, half empty. His mother lead him to the love seat across from the elder Anderson.

"Your father has something he wants to say to you, don't you, John?" Her tone of voice was one he had never heard her use before, and made him realize how serious this was.

The other male grunted, his face surly, like a petulant child. "I'm sorry. I won't interfere in your life any more. You can date who ever you want."

Blaine looked from him to his mother and back again. "Thank you, sir. May I ask why this sudden change in attitude?"

His father just grunted again and scowled. It was his mother who replied. "I merely made your father understand that he had no right to dictate your life to you, that you can't help who you fall in love with, and that if he didn't get his pig head out of his ass, he'd lose both of us."

Blaine looked at her in shock. He had never heard her swear before. She smiled at him. "This isn't the dark ages. The world is growing more accepting of those people who differ from everyone else. We are all unique individuals, and we can't judge others by any one standard. You have just as much right to love anyone you want as your father or I do."

Blaine hugged her, tears in his eyes. His father obviously still didn't approve, but at least he wouldn't continue to pressure him to be someone he wasn't. His father was being less than gracious about the situation, but Blaine was willing to give him the chance if he would take it. He stood and went to his dad, holding his hand out for a handshake. For a long moment the older male just stared at it, and Blaine thought for sure he would refuse to shake, but finally his Father reached out and took his hand.

…

Verden, 782 AD

A fortnight had passed since he had come upon the beautiful creature in the woods, and Beric couldn't stop thinking about him. The pale boy had been wild and free, and so very alive. Sometimes Beric felt smothered by the four walls confining him, and by his father's constant disapproval.

Beric had taken to searching for the pale boy everywhere he went, but never spotted him, though he had seen the wood carver at the spring festival the previous week. Today he resolved himself to going back into the woods to search for the mysterious young man.

Once again the sound of music lead him, and he saw the boy laughing and dancing as the woman played her lute, though this time the boy provided the singing. Laughing glasz eyes spied him, and beckoned him forward. Smiling shyly, Beric stepped into the clearing as the song ended. "Beric! I'm so happy you came back! This is my mother, Rowena."

The curly haired boy bowed respectfully. "You were correct, Cuthwin, his eyes are the exact color of melted gold!" The woman teased, making both boys blush. She laughed, the sound not unlike that of her son's, she excused herself and left the two boys alone, or so it seemed.

Beric spotted the two wolves playing nearby. Seeing where the other boy was looking, Cuthwin smiled and took his hand. "Would you like to meet them? They won't harm you."

"How is it they do your bidding? Is it some kind of magic?"

The pale boy laughed, and Beric thought he could listen to the sound forever. "There is no such thing as magic. My mother found them when they were but newborn pups. Their family had been killed by hunters seeking their fur. There were two other pups as well, but they died before mother could rescue them. She reared Eawyn and Alwyn, and they think of us as their pack, their family."

The darker boy allowed himself to be lead to where the two large predators playfully wrestled with each other. They stopped and sat up, tails wagging and bodies wriggling in excitement as the pale boy approached them.

"Hold out your hand, palm up," he instructed. "Allow them to take your scent."

Beric did as instructed, afraid, but trusting the other boy. The darker of the two approached first, sniffing his hand, and then liking it. "She likes you, good."

The second animal approached, and sniffed. He then sat down and sneezed at Beric, causing the pale boy to laugh again. "Alwyn is not so impressed. Fortunately for you it is his sister that is the more dominant of the two, and her approval is all you need. Would you like to pet them?"

Beric's eyes went wide. "Will they allow it?"

Cuthwin lead Eawyn closer. She sat in front of Beric, her tongue lolling out to the side, looking content. Slowly the darker boy reached out and stroked behind her ears, and oh, it felt so incredible. He smiled up at the other boy, unable to hide his pleasure in the feeling of touching the beautiful animal.

The pale boy smiled back, then spied something behind Beric. Cautiously he moved past the shorter boy, murmuring something softly. Beric turned to watch him, noting movement in the bushes. Something was trapped in the branches. The pale boy moved slowly, nonthreatening, talking softly to whatever creature was struggling there.

Awestruck, Beric watched the boy free a hawk, holding it gently in a way that didn't hurt the bird, but protected himself from the sharp beak and talons. An arrow pierced one wing. The pale boy had tears in his eyes as he rushed the bird towards what must be his home, shouting for his mother.

The woman saw him approaching with the injured bird, and hurried to meet him. Beric followed at a slower pace. He watched enthralled as the woman tore a piece of cloth from her under skirt and tied it gently around the hawk's eyes. The bird seemed to settle once it was blindfolded, and Cuthwin gently placed it on a workbench outside the small cottage. He then began collecting herbs and other items without being told, and quickly made a poultice as his mother carefully removed the arrow.

Beric was fascinated by how easily the two worked together to aid the animal. Once the arrow was gone and the poultice applied, the pale boy deftly wrapped the wing in another strip of cloth, careful not to damage the feathers, but tight enough to keep the wing immobile as the animal healed.

Seeing how caring and loving the strange boy was with the large bird amazed Beric, and something bubbled up inside him. He was falling in love with the beautiful boy.

…

"Your dad said what?" Jeff asked, incredulously.

"He said he wasn't going to try and force me to date girls anymore. He said I could date anyone I wanted to. Granted, it was painfully obvious he still didn't like it, but it's a start."

Blaine sat back in his chair at lunch on Tuesday, chewing his carne asada taco carefully.

Jeff and Nick glanced at each other, communicating with that telepathic ability they seemed to have.

"So," Nick began, his voice thoughtful. "Who are you going to date?"

Blaine almost choked. "What do you mean?"

"Well, now that you aren't worried about upsetting Daddy Dearest anymore, we assume you'll actually be interested in finding a boyfriend." Jeff, smiled kindly at him. "There are several boys we know who would be interested, unless you already have someone in mind?"

Blaine looked dumbstruck for a moment. "I haven't even really considered it. I mean, yeah, there are several nice guys here at Dalton who have expressed interest, but none of them really are my type."

"What is your type?" Nick asked.

Blaine considered it for several minutes. "Kind, musically inclined, someone who needs me as much as I need them. Someone who knows what they want, who is strong, but isn't afraid to show their weaknesses. Lean but not a stick. Blue or green eyes are a plus but not necessary."

The other two boys nodded their heads in understanding, thinking about the boys at the school they knew who were gay. None of them seemed to fit the description. All of the boys were kind, but beyond that, they couldn't think of a single boy who came close to that description.

"Well," Jeff supplied as they finished eating and started getting ready for their next class, "We'll keep an eye out for you. There has to be someone out there that is perfect for you."

Blaine laughed.

…

Verden, 782 AD

Spring crept into summer, and the two boys grew closer. Cuthwin was teaching him all about herbs and how they were used in healing, and showed him the beauty in the wildlife and flora that surrounded them. The pale boy taught him to respect every living thing, even that which sustained them.

The only dark spot on their time was Sexmund. He tended to follow them often, trying to drive a wedge between them. They quickly learned to avoid him, with the help of the wolves and other animals Cuthwin had befriended.

The hawk he had rescued grew stronger day by day, and as the solstice approached the bird's wing had completely mended, and they released it into the wild, though it returned again and again.

"We should name her, if she is going to keep returning." The pale boy said, thoughtfully, as they lay on their backs in the shade of an oak tree. The hawk rested in a branch high above them.

"How do you know it is a her?"

The taller boy smiled. "Males are smaller, and lighter in color. So what shall we call her?"

Beric thought for a while, studying the bird of prey as she scanned the area. "How about Emma?"

The pale boy smiled even wider. "I like it. Emma, then."

He sat up and whistled a low tune, and the hawk flew down and landed on a branch beside him. She allowed the pale boy to stroke her feathers. "What do you think, girl, is Emma suitable for you?"

The hawk let out a cry, and gently nipped at his finger. "I think she likes it."

They walked back to the wood carver's house, holding hands. Beric stopped just out of sight of the cottage, pulling the other boy back. Cuthwin looked at him curiously.

"I have something to tell you," The dark one said shyly.

"What?"

He tried to find the words, but nothing came to mind. So instead he leaned towards the taller boy, pressing their lips together.

The fair skinned boy beamed in happiness, then kissed the other boy back.

…

"What about him?" Jeff asked, nudging the dark haired boy. Blaine looked over at the red head his fellow Warbler pointed out. They were sitting at the food court at the mall, waiting for Nick to return with their drinks.

"He's straight," was his bored response.

"No way, look at those jeans. He's definitely gay."

"Five bucks says otherwise."

"You're on. How are we going to find out? You want to go flirt with him?"

"Well, I could, or I could point out the girl who just wrapped her hands around him and kissed him." Jeff turned to look back at the red haired boy.

"Well damn." He fished the money out of his pocket and handed it over just as his boyfriend arrived with a tray of coffees.

"What did you bet on this time?"

"The orientation of that cute ginger over there." Jeff said.

Nick laughed. "Nice try, babe."

Blaine sighed. "I appreciate you guys trying to find me a boyfriend, but it's really not necessary. I'll know when I find the right someone."

Nick nodded in agreement. "Come on, we're going to be late for the movie."

The three boys gathered up their trash and other items, and headed out of the food court towards the theater, laughing about something Wes had said in Warbler practice earlier. From the other side of the food court, an Auburn haired boy and a dark skinned girl made their way to the table the three boys just left.

…

Verden, 782 AD

As summer began to fade into fall, Beric's father started to forbid his son to wander off alone as often. He began to ask where the boy would disappear to. "Dangerous times are coming, my son. Charlemagne is beginning to enforce his decree on converting to his Christianity. It is not safe to keep secrets. If you know of someone who is flouting the king's orders, you must tell me."

Beric assured his father that he did not know anyone who still held to the old ways. It was mostly true. Cuthwin and his family had not exactly embraced the new religion, but they did not practice the old ways either. The boy and his parents simply respected the natural world. They did not believe in gods, or magic.

Despite his father's warning to remain close to home, Beric managed to sneak away to visit with the pale boy often. They would find a place in the woods to be alone. Neither of them cared about events outside their little realm. Neither knew that other men were rebelling against a Frankish king, and that tragedy was inevitable.

The weather grew colder as the autumnal equinox approached. A chill breeze followed him that morning as he made his way to their favorite meeting spot. He smiled when he saw the other boy singing and dancing around a bonfire. He joined his lover in the dance, and the song.

Soon they lay together on a blanket spread over the ground, with several more over them as they were wrapped in each others' arms, kissing. He lost himself in eyes the color of stormy seas.

"I love you, Beric," The pale boy murmured softly.

The curly haired boy smiled. "I love you too, Cuthwin."

Neither of them noticed the tall brunette scowling at them from the other side of the clearing.

That afternoon, humming to himself, Beric made his way back to his home, only to find chaos in the streets. He spotted his father in the crowd, shouting at several men. "Father, what is happening?"

The older man looked at him. "Beric! Where have you been? Charlemagne approaches with his army! He has discovered a rebellion among our countrymen. He demands we turn over the pagans among us, or he shall destroy us all!"

"What are you going to do?"

"I am going to give him what he wants, of course! All those who have not been baptized shall be handed over to him for punishment!"

"But he will kill them all. You cannot do that!"

"I can and I will! My men are bringing in the rebels now." He turned back to the crowd around him. "If any among you know of any hold outs, confess now or face the same fate as the rest!"

Some among them began to shout names of those believed to be among the rebels. Beric could not believe that his fellow humans could so willingly offer up their neighbors, knowing they would be put to death.

His heart froze when a familiar voice shouted above the crowd. "Cuthburt the wood carver, and his son Cuthwin!"

Beric sought out the voice, spotting Sexmund among the mob. The taller boy grinned viciously at him. "No! They are not rebels!"

His shout fell on deaf ears, as his father ordered the family to be brought in. "No!" he shouted again, and he began to run, ignoring his father's shout for him to stop.

He had to warn the family that had taught him so much. He ran as fast as he could through the woods to the small cottage where the wood carver lived with his wife and the beautiful boy that never knew hate. The boy who smiled and laughed and cared for all living things with a reverence that moved the curly haired boy.

He burst through into the meadow, and stopped cold. The king's soldiers had reached the home before him. He cried out in agony as he spotted the bodies sprawled in the grass in front of the cottage. Eawyn and Alwyn, the beautiful wolves, lay lifeless on the ground. Between them was the motionless form of Rowena, and next to her, the wood carver, a blade clutched in his lax hand.

An eerie cry from a hawk over head drew his attention towards the oak tree on the edge of the clearing. There was his beautiful Cuthwin, his pale skin marred by streaks of crimson, eyes grey and glazed over in death.

The massacre had only just begun.


	6. His Parfit Gentil Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished with the Roman Empire, though not necessarily Rome! We've reached one of my favorite eras in history, the era of The Knights Templar! Two hundred years of chivalry, of bravery, of mystery, and of crusades! So many ideas floating through my head for our favorite duo! You may recognize the name for this chapter if you've read Chaucer! It is short, but so very bitter sweet!
> 
> This chapter takes place between Grilled Cheesus and Duets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you've all enjoyed this so far! I hope you've learned something, or been inspired to do some historical research of your own!

Britain, 1166 AD

The two boys laughed as they pretended to duel each other with twigs that their five and six year old imaginations had turned into broadswords. Their mock battle lasted only until their laughter overwhelmed them, and they collapsed on the ground, holding each other.

"Someday I shall be a knight for real," The darker boy proclaimed. "I shall have a real sword, and ride on a white horse in the Crusades! And you will be there, too, Killian!"

The older boy frowned. "I don't know if I want to join the Crusades, Blaise."

"Why not? We could ride to the Holy Land together!"

The pale boy sat up, all laughter gone from his face. "I don't want to go."

The other boy sat up and hugged his best friend. "It's ok, you don't have to go if you don't want. I shall go myself, and then I will come back and tell you about all the amazing adventures I had, and you'll laugh and get so jealous!"

Killian looked at his friend. "Promise me, if you do go, you'll never forget me?"

"Of course I won't forget you! You're my best friend!"

They hugged tight. "I'll always love you, Blaise."

…

Kurt was exhausted. It had been an emotional couple of weeks. He was happy his dad was finally coming home this afternoon. He'd spent all morning cleaning, scrubbing, and cooking. Carole and Finn would be staying for dinner.

He probably would still be cleaning if Mercedes hadn't stopped by and dragged him to the mall for lunch. They took their trays and looked for a place to sit. The dark skinned Diva spotted three boys leaving a table on the other side of the food court and lead the countertenor towards it.

"Thanks, 'Cedes. You were right, I needed a break."

"I know all the stress you're facing, White Boy. Between your dad and the bullies and everything else you insist on trying to face alone, I'm surprised you haven't had a nervous breakdown, or gone after Rachel with a hatchet yet."

They both laughed. "Ok, now seriously, Kurt. We have to find you a boyfriend. I see how lonely you are."

The pale boy sighed. "I think we'd have more luck finding you a boy. Ohio, remember? It's not like there are a lot of gay guys to choose from. Most of them are so far in the closet their mailing address is in Narnia. And the ones who are out wouldn't be hanging around Lima."

Mercedes took his hand. "There must be someone around here for you. Tell me about your dream man? What's your type?"

"I don't know, I never really thought about it before. I mean, obviously he has to be well groomed and have a decent fashion sense. He should know how to sing, and have an appreciation for musicals. He should be strong, but not overly muscled. Someone who will stand up for me, but who knows when to let me fight my own battles as well. And curly hair is a definite plus."

The dark girl smiled. "Sounds dreamy. He's out there somewhere. We'll find him."

…

Britain, 1168 AD

"Killian!" The boy called out to his friend. It had been months since they'd last seen each other. The older boy had taken up his duties as page to Sir Wilhelm, who's lands were four days hard ride from Blaise's father's lands.

Blaise himself would soon taking up those same duties in his father's keep. He was eager to ask the older boy about everything he had learned so far. The pale boy smiled indulgently at him, hugging him. "I've missed you, Blaise! Have you missed me?"

"Of course! You have to tell me all about Sir Wilhelm and your training! Have you gotten to use a sword yet?"

The glasz eyed boy giggled. "Only a wooden one as yet. But I have learned much! I'll tell you all about it tonight before bed. Right now I must go unpack my lord's packs and help him prepare for the tournament on the morrow!"

The younger boy was disappointed that he could not spend more time with his old friend, but looked forward to that night. And he was not disappointed.

As they lay in bed, his friend talked of his duties as page, of caring for his lord's horses, and polishing his armor, of training in the bailey with the other boys his age to wield swords and axes and spears. Of riding with the huntsmen and the falconers. He told the stories he had heard of the knights who had returned from the crusades.

"I can't wait till I can be a knight!" Blaise said, sighing.

The pale boy smiled sadly. "You will be one day, I am sure. But I don't think it is the life I want to live."

The darker boy rolled over and looked at him. "Why not? Don't you want glory and honor on the battlefield?"

"It's not that. I just don't think my heart is in it. Why should I go on a crusade and fight and possibly die for a god I do not believe in?"

Blaise sat up in shock. "You don't believe in God? But Killian, you have to believe in Him!"

The other boy sat up as well, his posture angry. "Why? There is no proof he exists. And if he did exist, why would he have let my parents die in the epidemic several winters ago? They were good people, kind and loving. If god was real, then he would have saved them. And why would he make me..."

The pale boy cut himself off, not wanting to talk about that right now. "Anyway, you can't make me believe in something if I don't want to."

"I'm sorry Killian. I didn't mean to make you mad. Please, let's just lay down and sleep for now. Tomorrow I will watch you attend Sir Wilhelm in the tourney, and then you can tell me more stories of the life of a page!"

The two boys hugged, and lay back down. "I love you, Killian."

For some reason that seemed to make the older boy sadder. "I love you too, Blaise."

…

"Dad! The doctor said no salt!" Kurt chastised, reaching out to grab his dad's hand.

Burt grunted and muttered something about where the doctor could go and what to do when he got there. Carole laughed from across the table.

"Sometimes it's hard to tell which of you is the parent and which is the child."

"What is this?" Finn asked, eyeing the food on his plate.

"Salmon, rice pilaf in a lemon garlic sauce, and asparagus." Kurt replied, rolling his eyes.

"So how is school going, kiddo? Still having problems with the bullies?"

Kurt exchanged glances with Finn before answering. "School is fine, Dad."

There was an awkward silence as the two families ate. Kurt was grateful when Carole brought up Glee. Both he and Finn talked about the constant drama in class, and about the songs they were hoping to perform for sectionals. Conversation seemed to flow easier after that, and the evening ended pleasantly.

After the Hudsons departed, Kurt helped his dad settle on the couch and brought him his meds.

"So you didn't answer my question earlier," Burt commented as Kurt handed him the remote.

"What question was that, Dad?"

"About the bullies."

Kurt sighed. "It's fine, Dad. You don't need to worry about it."

"I do worry about, Kurt. It's my job to worry about you."

The pale boy hugged his dad. "I love you, Dad. I'm fine. Right now I am more worried about you."

"I love you too, kiddo. And I'm not going anywhere."

…

Britain, 1176 AD

The pale boy stood at the back of the church and watched the curly haired boy take a vow to serve his lord, his king, and his God. He should be happy for his friend as he took his oath as squire, but inside his heart was breaking. Though they had only seen each other sporadically over the last few years, they had remained good friends. The pale boy had always longed for something more. Now his friend would be leaving with his father and his father's knights to travel to the Holy Land.

He himself had been given the chance to take the oath the previous year, but had chosen not to. Sir Wilhelm had been sympathetic, and allowed him to remain in his service. His singing voice was a comfort to the nobleman and his keep, and he was often asked to sing at celebrations and feasts.

He would sing for Blaise today, to celebrate his taking his oath of fealty. Tonight there would be feasting, and on the morrow there would be a tourney, and then the following day the knights and their squires would depart for the long journey.

After the ceremony, the darker boy hugged his best friend. "Killian! I'm so happy you came! This is the happiest day of my life!"

"I am so happy for you, Blaise!" And he was. All he ever wanted was for this boy to be happy, and he would do anything to make that happen. "You'll be the best squire ever, and they won't have any choice but make you a knight!"

The younger boy laughed. They made their way back to the keep as the feast began. The shorter boy talked on about the adventures he was looking forward to experiencing. The pale boy listened, and kept a brave face for his friend. When the time came, he joined the musicians in the center of the hall.

He knew the song he had chosen was sad, but he did not feel like singing a song of joy at this time. He refused to look directly at Blaise as he sang, knowing his heart would be in his eyes, and not wanting his oldest friend to see the truth of his feelings there.

Hath any loved you well, down there,

Summer or winter through?  
Down there, have you found any fair  
Laid in the grave with you?  
's death's long kiss a richer kiss  
Than mine was wont to be–  
Or have you gone to some far bliss  
And quite forgotten me?

What soft enamoring of sleep

Hath you in some soft way?  
What charmed death holdeth you with deep  
Strange lure by night and day?  
A little space below the grass,  
Our of the sun and shade;  
But worlds away from me, alas,  
Down there where you are laid.

Once the song ended, he could feel the tears gathering in his eyes, and excused himself from the hall, claiming to feel unwell.

Later that night, Blaise found him in his rooms. "Killian? Is there something wrong?"

The pale boy kept his back to the other boy. "Just a headache, I'll be fine."

The younger boy moved closer to the bed. "Killian, I know you are sad. Talk to me, please."

He rolled over and faced the darker boy, sighing. "I am sad, it is true."

"Why?" Blaise asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Promise you won't tell anyone?"

"Of course."

He took a shuddering breath. "I-I'm in love with someone, but they don't see me in that way. And it makes me sad that they will never know how much I love them."

"I'm sorry, Killian. Who is it?"

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I don't want to talk about it right now. Could we just lay down and sleep like we used to? I've missed you, and you will be leaving me in a few days. Who knows when we will see each other again?"

The curly haired boy smiled at him, and lay beside him on the bed, and they held each other as they had as children.

Two days later, Killian watched the knights and squires as they rode out of the bailey. Deep in his heart, he knew he would never see the curly haired boy again. He only wished he had had enough courage to tell the other boy that he loved him.

A year later, at the Battle of Montgisard, the squire bravely ran into the fight to protect the knight who had fallen before the enemy's sword, and was struck down, the blade piercing his heart. His last thought was of the pale boy he had never confessed his true feelings to.


	7. Play the Pipes for Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is going to be interesting, because I get to write about an ancestor of mine, a pretty famous one at that! I'm not directly descended from him. He's something of a many times great uncle or distant cousin, it's kind of confusing. (Ancestry.com says he's an uncle, but family stories say cousin.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place between Grilled Cheesus and Duets, from Blaine's point of view.
> 
> My name generator actually failed me for this chapter! I had to go to a Scottish baby name page, and found Kester, which is old Gaelic for Christopher. I figure that would work ;).

Scotland, 1297 AD

The late summer breeze was cool that September morning along the banks of the River Forth, as smoke from the campfires drifted over the gathered soldiers. They knew the call to battle could come at any time, but for the moment, there was an eerie calm.

Bhaltair, one of the Wallace's soldiers, wandered among the gathered men, noting that the combined forces of Wallace and Moray seemed small compared to the reported forces of the enemy. He trusted their leaders, though, and had faith that they would be victorious when the battle did come.

He was lost in thought, still wandering the encampment, when someone called out. "Kester, why don't you grace us with the sound of your pipes? All this sitting around waiting is getting on my nerves!"

The voice that responded was high and clear in the morning air, the words sharp and biting. "Angus, I would play the pipes if I could, but your stench has taken the air from my lungs. Do us all a favor and go jump in the river. Perhaps the English will get a whiff of you and turn tail and run."

Most of Moray's soldiers in the area laughed at the boy's cutting wit. Bhaltair was intrigued, wanting to see the face that matched that voice. He moved around to the far side of the tent from which the voice had come. The sight he came upon was shocking to say the least. The pale boy was about seventeen, with long auburn hair worked into two braids on either side of his delicate, elfin face. The blue and green tartan he wore matched the faceted gems of his eyes almost exactly, lacking only the flecks of grey that dotted those beautiful orbs.

The darker boy realized he was staring when the other boy smiled curiously at him. "See something interesting, do you?"

Bhaltair smiled. "Intriguing, actually. I am Bhaltair."

The pale boy smirked. "Kester. Are you one of Wallace's men?"

"Aye. He's my uncle," the curly haired boy admitted. After a moment of awkward silence, he asked. "You play the bagpipes?"

The pale boy nodded. "Aye. Do you play?"

"I prefer the lyre. Perhaps we can entertain the men later with a song or two, if those cursed English don't get up their nerve and attack."

The taller boy smiled. "Perhaps."

…

"Earth to Blaine, come in, Blaine!" Wes practically shouted in his ear.

"I'm sorry," The dark haired boy blinked. "My mind was still on my history homework. What were you saying?"

The Asian smiled at him. "I asked if you'd decided which song you wanted to sing for our next performance in the commons?"

"Oh, yeah, I've narrowed it down to either Last Friday Night and Teenage Dream. I thought we could practice both of them and see which ones sounds better."

Wes nodded. "Good choices. I can see you doing either one."

Blaine smiled and sat back as the meeting continued. Nick elbowed him in the ribs. "Hey, I was wondering if you could do me a huge favor?" he whispered.

"What's that?"

"Jeff's cousin is getting married, and we've been invited to the wedding. The bride's family is coming out here from Cincinnati for the ceremony, and her brother needs a date. He's eighteen, and Gillian says he's a really great guy who just broke up with his boyfriend after he found the jerk cheating on him."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Come on Nick, setting me up on a blind date for a wedding of people I've never met?"

"You've met Jeff's cousin, Daniel. He was at sectionals last year."

"Oh yeah. But still, a blind date?"

"Come on, Blaine, you'd be doing Jeff and me a huge favor, and he and I wouldn't be the only gay couple there for everyone to gawk at."

"Fine, but you owe me if he turns out to be a creeper."

Nick smiled at him.

…

Scotland, 1297 AD

"Look sharp men," the Wallace called out. "The English have made a move towards the bridge at Stirling, but backed off. They've called for negotiations. Most likely a stall tactic as they search for a better place to cross the Forth."

"Good luck to them," Kester called out. "They'll have to go far out of their way to find a better crossing."

Several men agreed with him. The pale boy sat beside Bhaltair at the fire, where the curly haired boy sat absently plucking at his lyre. They sat in companionable silence as they listened to the conversations around them. The Wallace and some of the other leaders talked strategy, while some of the older men talked about other skirmishes they'd seen.

"Nephew, why don't you play us a song? Give the men a break from talk of war for a bit."

"Of course, Uncle. What shall I play?"

It was one of the older men who replied. "Play us a love song. Something to remind us what we're fighting for."

Bhaltair thought for a moment, and then began to play. Kester picked up his pipes and joined in as the darker boy began to sing.

Oh summer days and heather bells  
Come blooming owre yon high hill,  
There's yellow corn in a' the fields,  
And autumn brings the shearin'.

Bonnie lassie will ye gang  
And shear wi' me the hale day lang?  
And love will cheer us as we gang  
Tae join yon band o' shearers.

Oh, if the weather be owre hot  
I'll cast my cravat and my coat  
And shear wi' ye amang the lot,  
When we join yon band o' shearers.

And if the thistle is owre strang,  
And pierce your lily milk-white hand,  
It's wi' my hook I'll cut them down,  
When we gang tae the shearin'.

And if the weather be owre dry,  
They'll say there's love twixt you and I  
But we will proudly pass them by,  
When we join the band o' Shearers.

And when the shearin' it is done  
And slowly sets the evening sun,  
We'll have some rantin' roarin' fun,  
And gang nae mair tae the shearin'.

So bonnie lassie bricht and fair  
Will ye be mine for evermair?  
If ye'll be mine, then I'll be thine,  
And we gang nae mair tae the shearin'.

As the music faded, the pale boy smiled shyly at the golden eyed boy. Bhaltair smiled back. "Would you care to go for a walk?"

"Aye, though there be no shearin' around here."

…

Blaine laughed at the black haired boy sitting beside him in the reception hall. The bride's brother, Patrick, was a natural born comedian, and had the three Warblers falling out of their seats.

The boy was Hot, too. Blaine was actually a little attracted to the raven haired boy. They'd danced a couple of times after the meal had been served, and it had been nice, especially when the taller boy had started singing along to La Isla Bonita.

"You sing beautifully."

The compliment seemed to make the other boy sad. "Eric sang that song for me the night we first met. He said I was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen."

"Eric? Your ex?"

The older boy teared up a little. "Yeah, the jerk. I thought he loved me."

"Well, he's an idiot for letting you go. You really are beautiful, and your voice is amazing." They left the dance floor, and Blaine offered the other boy a tissue.

"I'm sorry," the boy said as he wiped his emerald eyes. "I didn't mean to ruin your night. I should have told Gillian not to ask Jeff to set me up with someone. I'm not really ready to start dating again yet. You must be horribly mortified."

"No, it's fine. I'm actually enjoying myself," Blaine assured him. "I'm not really looking to date anyone myself either. My dad still isn't okay with me being gay, but he's trying. I'm taking it slow, not rushing into things."

They returned to the table with the other two boys, and Patrick had started cracking jokes at his own expense, making them all laugh. All in all, Blaine had really enjoyed the night, and he'd exchanged phone numbers with the other boy, though he knew they'd just be friends.

…

Scotland, 1297 AD

The two boys walked in silence along the banks of the River Forth for several long moments.

"You sing very well. You have a lot of emotion in your voice."

The curly haired boy smiled. "Thank you. You play the pipes beautifully."

The pale boy blushed. "I learned to play because my mother loved the sound of the pipes. She said no other instrument could ever make music come alive the way the bagpipes did."

"It certainly comes alive when you play them. What happened to your mother?"

The glasz eyed boy glared out across the water towards the English encampment. "Both of my parents were murdered by the bloody sassenach bastards. It is why I joined Moray's soldiers. My mother taught me to sing and play music, but my father taught me to fight."

"I'm sorry."

The pale boy smiled at him. "So what is your story, Bhaltair, nephew of the Wallace?"

"There's not much to tell. I fight for the freedom of Scotland beside my uncle and other kin."

Blue green eyes studied him. "Your heart is not in the battle, though, is it? You are a sensitive soul. Music is more your passion."

The younger boy blushed. "I have many passions."

Perfectly formed eyebrows rose in question as pale pink lips quirked into a smile. Golden eyes met his, before the shorter boy leaned in and laid a kiss to his mouth. Both boys sighed and deepened the kiss.

In a lush field of Scottish heather, well hidden from prying eyes, they lay together in the late afternoon sun and shared their love.

On the morning of September eleventh, the English cavalry crossed the Bridge near Stirling Castle. The Scottish that followed Wallace and Moray waited and watched from the higher ground. The bridge was narrow, allowing only two riders abreast to cross.

When the Scotts estimated that enough of the English soldiers had crossed that would be nearly even odds for them, they attacked. With only a portion of their soldiers on the northern shore of the river, the English were easily overwhelmed by the Highlanders.

Kester and Bhaltair fought side by side, their swords flashing and glinting in the morning light. The victory was nearly won when one of the English war horses reared in fright after it's rider was unseated.

The pale boy shouted a warning, but it was too late. The darker boy had fallen beneath the animal's flailing hooves. The full weight of the beast and it's armor crashed down on the curly haired boy's chest, crushing his ribs.

Kester cried out and ran to his lover's side. The shorter boy could barely breath, and blood bubbled from the corner of his mouth. "Bhaltair!"

The wounded boy reached up and cupped the pale cheek. "Pl- please, love. P-play the pipes for me, o-one more time."

With tears streaking his porcelain cheeks, the auburn haired boy raised his pipes and began a sad tune, as he watched the light fade from golden eyes.


	8. The Wanderer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during Duets, but don't expect much of cannon, because I focused more on Kurt's other classes. He is in high school after all. He had to have homework from other classes to work on.
> 
> The song in this chapter is called Ireland, by Garth Brooks. It's an absolutely beautiful song, and I would love to hear Chris sing it sometime, his voice would make it even more haunting. I took some liberties with this one and attributed the lyrics to a fictional character, or at least a portion of them, but the actual writers are Garth Brooks, Jenny Yates and Stephanie Davis. (Hope that covers the disclaimer clause).

Ireland, 1424 AD

The sound of a mandolin drew the old man's attention. His mind often wandered lately, and he wasn't certain if the music was real, or a wisp of some long forgotten memory. It didn't really matter. He began to hum along with the tune.

He sat in front of the home he'd been born in eighty some odd years ago. He had no kin, had never married, but he had been in love once, a long time ago. Or had it been yesterday? He couldn't remember, though he could still recall the beautiful face. Dark, curly hair framing a laughing face, eyes the color of barley honey.

His mind drifted again as the music continued on the evening breeze. What had he been thinking about before? He'd been thinking of someone, he thought, but couldn't recall who it was.

The music faded, and the old man fell asleep as the sun faded below the horizon.

…

"Psst! He's on team gay! No straight boy dyes his hair to look like Linda Evangelista circa 1993."

Mercedes just rolled her eyes at the pale boy sitting beside her. "You're crazy, circa 2010."

Kurt wasn't deterred though, as he eyed the new kid. He really hoped this Sam turned out to be gay. He was cute, and Kurt really wanted a friend who understood him.

…

"So kiddo," Burt said at dinner that evening. "Did you finish your homework?"

"Most of it. I still have some research to do at the library tonight for my history project."

The elder Hummel nodded. "What's the project about?"

Kurt smiled. "We're actually doing a segment on the history of music and how the politics of the different eras has influenced it, and also how it has influenced today's music. My project is about Celtic music, since our family is mostly of Irish decent. I think I may actually have found some references to an ancestor of ours."

"Oh?" His dad was genuinely interested in this.

"Yeah, but I'm not certain, because the spellings have changed over time, but I remember Grandma Meredith mentioning the name Culpher once when talking about our family tree. I found references to to an Irish poet named Cárthach Coylefer, and when I looked up the surname, I found that both names have the same origin, they're just different spellings of the same familial name!"

Burt smiled at his son's enthusiasm. "So what, you think he may be a great great what ever grandfather?"

"No, he apparently never married or had children, but he might be a great great or whatever uncle, or cousin of some sort."

"Interesting. You said he was a poet?"

"Yeah, and apparently a really good one, too. He's influenced many modern songwriters."

"Well, good luck on your project, and don't stay out at the library too late."

…

Ireland, 1364 AD

The pale skinned young man watched the waves crashing on the shores of Galway bay. His breathing seemed to try and tune itself to the rhythm of the ebb and flow. He smiled, and set pen to paper as twilight rose around him. The poem was short, but it truly expressed his feelings for his homeland;

Mother Earth is breathing,

with each wave that finds the shore.

Her soul rises in the evening,

to open twilight's door.

Her eyes are the stars in Heaven,

watching over me all the while.

And her heart, it is in Ireland,

deep within the Emerald Isle.

He closed his journal and returned home. His father lay sleeping near the fire. He covered the older male with a blanket, gently placing a kiss on the wrinkled brow. He lay down in the other bed, but wasn't really sleepy.

He thought about the poem he'd written that evening. It was different than most of his others. Most of them talked about loneliness, and wondering if he would ever find love. He'd always been something of a romantic, and had believed that he would fall in love someday, but he had never seemed attracted to any of the girls in the village.

At twenty three, he was still unmarried, though nearly every other young man his age was. Perhaps the one destined to win his heart was not to be found here in Ireland. Perhaps he should journey out into the world, find adventure and perhaps love. He glanced over at his father once more.

Cárthach knew his father's health was fading, that he wouldn't live through the next winter. He couldn't leave now. He'd remain and care for the man that had cared for him his entire life. But one day, he would leave his home, and seek what his heart yearned for more than anything else.

…

Kurt kept thinking of the new boy, even as he lost himself in his history project. He still didn't know for sure if the blond was gay or not, but Sam had agreed to sing a duet with him for the Glee assignment. They hadn't had a chance yet to pick a song, but he thought his new friend might like the song he'd just discovered while researching his history assignment. Apparently at least a portion of it was written by the man he suspected of being a distant relation of his, although the rest of the song was supposedly about Irish soldiers conscripted by the English to fight in the American Revolution or something like that.

He had been surprised to learn that the song was by a country artist. He normally wasn't in to that type of music, but Sam apparently was. He wondered if the song would work as a duet? He hit play on his iPod and listened to the haunting music once more.

They say mother earth is breathing  
With each wave that finds the shore  
Her soul rises in the evening  
For to open twilight's door  
Her eyes are the stars in heaven  
Watching o'er us all the while  
And her heart it is in Ireland  
Deep within the Emerald Isle

We are forty against hundreds  
In someone else's bloody war  
We know not why were fighting  
Or what we're dying for  
They will storm us in the morning  
When the sunlight turns to sky  
Death is waiting for its dance now  
Fate has sentenced us to die

Ireland I am coming home  
I can see your rolling fields of green  
And fences made of stone  
I am reaching out won't you take my hand  
I'm coming home Ireland

Oh the captain he lay bleeding  
I can hear him calling me  
These men are yours now for the leading  
Show them to their destiny  
As I look up all around me  
I see the ragged tired and torn  
I tell them to make ready  
'Cause we're not waiting for the morn

Ireland I am coming home  
I can see your rolling fields of green  
And fences made of stone  
I am reaching out won't you take my hand  
I'm coming home Ireland

Now the fog is deep and heavy  
As we forge the dark and fear  
We can hear their horses breathing  
As in silence we draw near  
There are no words to be spoken  
Just a look to say good-bye I draw a breath and night is broken  
As I scream our battle cry

Ireland I am coming home  
I can see your rolling fields of green  
And fences made of stone  
I am reaching out won't you take my hand  
I'm coming home Ireland  
Yes I am home Ireland

We were forty against hundreds

Yeah, he thought he could work it into a duet. He'd suggest it to Sam tomorrow.

…

He didn't mention the song to Sam. Finn had begged him at lunch not to do the duet with the other boy because he didn't want Sam to get chased out of the school by the same bullies that tormented the countertenor every day. He could see the jock's point, but it still pissed him off.

And then when he'd told his dad about it, he'd agreed with Finn!

Laying in bed that night, he tossed and turned, wondering why it was so hard for him to find someone to love him for himself. Was it too much to ask for at least one person who understood what he went through on a daily basis? Why couldn't he live somewhere where people like him were accepted just as they are?

Someday he'd get out of this homophobic backwater town.

…

Ireland, 1384 AD

He'd never left. He remind in that tiny village on the shores of Galway Bay, and at forty three, he'd still never found love. His father had passed away in mid winter of that year when he'd vowed to himself that he would venture out into the world to find love.

He had intended to leave the following spring. There had been nothing to hold him there anymore. He'd packed and repacked his bags many times, but each day came an excuse to delay his departure. The weather was still to cold, to wet. He felt ill and didn't want to travel while suffering some sickness. The weather was now to hot to travel.

He knew each excuse was simply that, an excuse to cover his fear. What if he left the only home he knew, and still never found love? What if he was never meant to be loved by anyone?

So he stayed, and yearned, and lost himself in his poetry. He'd earned something of a reputation for his writing. The wife of a nobleman had been visiting one day, and had literally bumped into him as she exited the local tavern. He'd dropped his journal, and a few of the pages had come loose. He had gathered them up as she apologized. She'd noticed the writing on one of the pages, and had asked him about it. It was the poem about Ireland he'd written years ago.

He'd allowed her to read it, and she loved it. She'd asked him to write something for her husband as an anniversary gift, and he agreed. After that a few others had offered to pay him for poems and stories.

He remained, and he yearned, and he wrote his heart into each and every poem. Perhaps one day someone would read his words, and know they were written about them, and come and find him, and at last he'd know love.

…

He listened to all the other duets, and he felt his resolve slip a little, but he knew he'd made the right decision. When he had chosen to do Le Jazz Hot yesterday, he had come to the conclusion that when you are different, when you are special, sometimes you had to get used to being alone.

He though about Cárthach, who had never married or had children. He wondered if the man had ever found someone to love? He'd done a lot of research on the poet, who had lived to be eighty three years old. He'd read every poem of his he could find.

Most of the earlier ones talked of loneliness and trying to find himself. He'd found the poem that had inspired that song he'd loved. Many of the later poems seemed to be about other people's love, but never his own. And then there was his final poem, which hinted of a love that came too late.

He'd reread The Wanderer several times, and still he couldn't decide if it was the most tragic thing he had ever read, or the most beautiful.

…

Ireland, 1424 AD

Summer seemed to go on forever that year, but the old man hardly noticed. His memory had begun to fade, and he couldn't always remember one day to the next. His neighbors often stopped by to visit him, but he often forgot who they were. One day he had wandered into the village, though he could not recall why he had gone.

He heard mandolin music, and followed it. He wandered into some kind of festival. He stayed in the shadows, watching, and listening. Someone was dancing and singing. The voice was perfect, the song? Were those his words? Someone had put one of his poems to music. He saw the young man with the laughing honey eyes, and somewhere deep inside he felt something shifting.

He could not look away from the beautiful young man, who sang as if he knew the words had been written just for him. A tear slipped from Cárthach's eye as he realized he finally knew what it felt like to love someone.

The Wanderer

My body is old and gray

and now and then my mind wanders away

but yesterday my eyes were clear

when sweet music I did hear

so long has my heart hoped for this day

In your eyes I saw what could be

if only you saw me

and though it be too late

it could only be fate

If only I had searched for thee

Would you have been my lover

would I have been your love

in your wandering, did you search for me

Would you have said to me

there you are, I've been looking for you forever

As the sound of the mandolin faded away, the old man fell asleep as the sun faded beyond the horizon, never again to awake.


	9. Star Crossed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One word...Shakespeare!
> 
> This chapter takes place between Duets and Rocky Horror Glee Show, and is Blaine's point of view.
> 
> The song Blaine sings is from the movie Bugsy Malone, and is called Tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I know that in the last chapter, Blaine's past incarnation wasn't named, so just for future reference his name was Bairre.

London, 1591 AD

He watched the cloaked figure scurry through the streets, hood hiding their face. The cut of the cloak was expensive and slightly feminine, though the silhouette it hid, as well as the way they moved, seemed questionable.

His curiosity was piqued, and he followed discreetly. Whom ever was shrouded in the cloak seemed not to want to be discovered, and for the first time he took notice of the traveling pack the figure carried. A runaway, perhaps? Some young debutante fleeing an arranged marriage?

His imagination began to work with that thought as he continued to follow the cloaked figure. They had nearly reached the road out of London when another cloaked figure stepped out of an alleyway and bumped into the lithe being. They both tumbled to the ground, and the hood fell back from the figure he had followed. He was mildly surprised to see that it was not a young woman under the cloak, but rather a young man.

The boy was probably no more than fifteen or sixteen, with auburn hair and skin as pale as fine china, but the most remarkable thing about him were his eyes, which shifted from blue to green to grey with each movement.

The young man who had run into him smiled at the pale boy shyly. His golden eyes seemed transfixed on the beautiful young male as the wind ruffled his dark curls. Both boys were stunning. He wondered if they could act. The pale one would be a natural for some of the female roles they were currently casting, while the dark one would be perfect for some of the younger male leads.

He continued to watch the two boys, and noticed how they both continued to gaze at each other, longingly.

Will sighed. He was a romantic at heart, but he knew how tragically that kind of love could end. Come to think of it, that would be a rather interesting plot for a play.

…

"I still think Last Friday Night is the better choice for the performance in the commons," Trent commented.

"I don't know," Blaine hedged. "I like it, and it's really fun, but Teenage Dream just seems to be coming together better with the choreography and backing. Besides, Dean Thompson said if I kept jumping on the couches he'd make me personally clean every single piece of furniture in Dalton."

The other Warblers laughed, before Wes rapped his gavel. "Okay, we'll give it another couple of days of rehearsals before we decide which song to perform. In the meantime, it's time to plan the annual Warbler Lock-in! Now, thanks to Nick's uncle, dinner will be supplied by Michelangelo's Restaurant, And Thad's dad is supplying more snacks and drinks. We need to vote on which videos to watch, so everyone should submit their recommendations before practice tomorrow."

As the meeting broke up, Nick caught up to Blaine. "Hey, can you drive me up to Lima? My car broke down there yesterday, and I had to leave it at the garage there."

The curly haired boy looked at him curiously. "What were you doing in Lima?"

The younger boy blushed. "Picking up Jeff's birthday present."

"Is that why you are asking me and not your boyfriend?"

"Well, partly. Jeff has a meeting with Mr. Sullivan about his science project."

Blaine shrugged. "Okay. What garage is it at?"

"Uh, I think it was called Hummel Tire and Lube, or something like that. At least that's what I think it said on the patch on the overalls the cute kid who helped me out was wearing."

"Cute kid?" Blaine asked.

"Yeah, He was maybe sixteen or seventeen. The other guys there were much older, but they kept calling the boy 'boss.' It was funny."

…

Danny grumbled good naturedly as he watched the pale boy walk away. He respected his boss' son, but sometimes that boy could be a little tyrant. He understood the kid was just worried about his dad, they all were. But he'd be happy when Burt was cleared to come back to work.

Danny returned to the caddy he was working on, when the jingling of the bells let him know someone had entered the office. When he entered, he saw two boys in blue blazers.

"Can I help you?"

The blue eyed one smiled and answered. "Yeah, I'm here to pick up the '76 camero? I was told it would be ready by five?"

"Ah so you're the one that sweet ride belongs to? Sure thing, it's out back, just let me get your keys and paperwork."

As he went through the door, Danny thought he heard the one boy talking to the other.

"Damn, I was hoping that hot boy would be here. I think you'd like him."

Danny wondered if they were talking about Kurt. He wished the boy hadn't just left too. He knew the boy was lonely. It would do the kid some good to at least have a friend that understood him. He knew Burt wouldn't like his son to start dating just yet, but Danny remembered what it was like at that age.

Maybe he should delay the boys a few minutes, Kurt should be back from the Lima Bean soon. It'd be nice if he at least had a chance to meet the two boys. But the sound of his pager going off cut off that thought. Someone needed a tow. Oh well.

"Here you go," he said, handing the boy the keys. "We changed the air filter and replaced a couple of hoses that were starting to show wear. We also topped off all your fluids."

"Thanks, how much do I owe you?"

…

London, 1591 AD

Will saw the two boys again a few days later, as they surreptitiously met near The Globe. They tried to blend into the shadows of the theater's arches, and he didn't think anyone else spotted them. He couldn't resist spying on them, and he made his way closer.

"I had to see you again, Curtis. I've thought of little else but you since we met."

"I've thought of you too, Blair! I told my parents I wasn't feeling well and slipped out my window."

The curly haired boy smiled. "I would have liked to see you climbing down from your balcony."

Will smiled to himself, he could picture the scene in his mind.

He saw the two boys share an intimate kiss, and blushed, ashamed of himself for intruding, but he couldn't leave now. He heard the pale boy sigh when the kiss was broken,

"Father is going to announce my betrothal tomorrow night. I am to wed the daughter of the Earl of Derby."

Earl of Derby? Who was this boy, to be marrying high into the peerage? He would have to be of noble birth himself.

The darker boy frowned. "Father wanted me to marry the earl's daughter, but he said another had beaten him to the prize. He was outraged at the snub!"

Curtis laughed softly. "Not much of a prize, I assure you. The woman, Suzette, is a shrew. I pity the man who will marry her, for it shall not be I."

Will smiled to himself. He'd considered writing a play about a shrewish woman, but wasn't certain how well it would be viewed. Perhaps he should seek out this Suzette just to get an idea of her mannerism.

Blair smiled. "Let us runaway together! I care not what my father wishes, I want to marry no woman. My heart belongs to you!"

The pale boy smiled. "I love you too! Yes! I will runaway with you! Let us meet here tomorrow night after the sun sets."

They kissed once more, before parting. Will stepped out of his niche, thinking. He really should write these thoughts down. There was definitely a play in this somewhere.

…

Blaine sat back on the sofa, enjoying the manicotti from Michelangelo's, along with the shrimp scampi. Nick and Jeff were sitting across from him. The two of them were telling him about the invitation they'd gotten to go skiing over Christmas vacation with Jeff's cousin Daniel and his new wife Gillian.

"Oh, by the way," Jeff said, "Patrick says hi. He dropped his phone in a puddle and fried it, so he had to get a new one, and lost your phone number. I gave it to him again, hope you don't mind."

"That's fine. How is he doing?" Blaine asked, remembering the raven haired hottie.

"He has a new boyfriend, actually. Some kid named Eli."

"That's great! I hope they are happy together." He took a drink of his soda. "Oh, I almost forgot, you guys remember Jeremiah?"

"The one who has a twin sister?" Nick asked.

"Yeah, well he sent me an email the other day. Apparently he's moving to Westerville. He's taking some classes at the community college, and he's going to be starting a new job, too. I forget where he said, though."

"That's cool. Maybe the two of you can get to know each other better," Jeff said.

"Yeah, but he's pretty busy for now, probably won't be until after Christmas that we can get together for coffee or something. He's still looking for an apartment and trying to get settled into his classes."

Both boys smiled at him, and the blond reached over and patted his shoulder. "I hope things work out for you, Blaine."

Someone turned on some music, and all the boys took turns singing. Soon everyone was dancing and laughing and having fun. Then a song came on that Blaine just had to sing, even though it was kind of silly. He wasn't even certain who's playlist it came from.

Tomorrow  
Tomorrow never comes  
What kind of a fool  
Do they take me for  
Tomorrow  
A resting place for bums  
A trap set in the slums  
But I know the score

I won't take no for an answer  
I was born to be a dancer now, Yeah

Tomorrow  
Tomorrow, as they say  
Another working day and another chore  
Tomorrow  
An awful price to pay  
I gave up yesterday  
But they still want more

They are bound to compare me  
To Fred Astaire when I'm done  
Anyone who feels the rhythm  
Movin' through em  
Knows it's gonna do em good  
To let the music burst out

When you feel assured  
Let the people know it  
Let your laughter loose  
Until your scream  
Becomes a love-shout, ah

Tomorrow  
Tomorrow's far away  
Tomorrow, as they say,  
Is reserved for dreams  
Tomorrow  
Tomorrow's looking grey  
A playground always locked  
Trains no winning teams

I won't take no for an answer  
I was born to be a dancer now  
Anyone who feels the rhythm through em  
Knows it's gonna do em good  
To let the music burst out  
When you feel assured  
Let the people know it.  
Let your laughter loose  
Until your scream becomes a love shout  
Ah

…

London, 1591 AD

Will hid once more in the shadows as he waited for the two boys to show up for their rendezvous. He had tried to talk himself out of coming, but curiosity once again bested him, and he had to know if the two lovers would find their happy ending. He was a realist, he knew that sometimes things just weren't meant to be.

He saw the darker boy, Blair arrive, carrying his travel pack, looking anxious, and scanning for the pale boy. Will also scanned for the taller boy, but there was no sign of the beautiful young man.

After almost an hour, a cloaked figure approached, running, and breathless. "Blair!"

"Curtis! I began to think you had decided not to come!"

The pale one threw himself into the other boy's arms. "My father caught me as I was trying to leave. He confronted me, and I confessed I loved someone else. He was very angry. And then your father arrived! There was a huge argument. Your father accused me of corrupting you. I slipped away, but they are following us! We must go now!"

Just then shouts filled the streets, as the two feuding families converged. Will watched as the shouting and shoving turned to fists and, then swords. The dark one's father accosted the lithe young man, shouting profanities at him.

Blair saw his father draw his sword, and before he could even think, he stepped in front of the auburn haired boy he loved. The blade was true, and slid through both boys.

Both families screamed, and the fighting grew. Several more duels broke out, more blood was shed before the authorities could contain the violence. When the female relatives arrived to claim the wounded and dead, Will cried with them.

Never was there such a tale of woe.


	10. Revolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This takes place during Rocky Horror Glee Show.

Paris, 1794 AD

"Viva la revolución!" The crowd shouted as the snick of Madame Guillotine sounded in the square. The unruly mob continued to shout and cheer as one by one, the prisoners were led to the lady's deathly embrace.

From the outskirts of the throngs of spectators, a single figure watched from the shadows, horrified by the display. He dared not look away or retreat, knowing that if he showed any sign of anti-revolutionary ideals, his could very well be the next neck to be kissed by la Madame.

Only once the crowd dispursed did he feel free to flee. He attempted to blend in with the flow of people, but someone collided with him after only a few paces.

"Excusez-moi!" The curly haired boy said. He couldn't help but notice the golden eyed boy seemed a bit green around the gills. Had the other boy been as disgusted by the executions as he himself had?

He reluctantly found himself smiling at the other boy. "It was my fault. I wasn't paying attention."

The other boy smiled in return. "I'm Benoît."

The pale one hesitated. In the current political state, having the wrong friends could be deadly. Could he trust this boy? He knew nothing about him. For all he knew he could be one of the fanatics calling for more blood. He looked into those large, warm eyes, and couldn't help himself. He took the other boy's hand. "Clovis."

"Benoît!" A voice called. An older male approached the two boys. He eyed Clovis dubiously. "Come along, son. I have very important business to attend to."

"Yes, Father."

Clovis' heart sank. He recognised the older man. Robespierre. The man most responsible for the atrocious display. He stood there, heartsick as the other two males walked away. When the golden eyed boy looked back, the pale one couldn't look at him.

...

"No." Kurt said adamently. "There is no way I'm playing a transvestite in high heals and fishnet. And wearing lipstick!"

He was excited that they were going to do Rocky Horror Picture Show, of course, but why did everyone assume that because he was gay that he wanted to dress like a girl? Now if they asked him to play Eddie, or even Riff, that would be awesome. He thought he could pull either of those roles off.

He could really have fun with the Riff costumes, come to think of it, already picturing the outfits in his mind. Especially the silver one at the end of the show. Yeah, he wanted to play Riff.

He was still thinking about his costume options as he walked down the hall before lunch the next day. He didn't notice Karofsky moving up the hallway towards him until he felt himself slammed into the lockers. Again no one even looked at him to see if he was okay. Did no one care, or was he simply invisible? He wasn't sure which was more depressing.

...

"Hey Dad, I need you to sign this permission slip for Glee." He said that evening at dinner time. Burt glanced over the paper.

"Rocky Horror? Isn't that a bit...controversial for high school? You're not playing that cross dresser, are you?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "No, dad, I'm not, I promise. I'm going to play Riff Raff."

"The handyman?" Burt asked. Kurt looked at him in shock. No way could he imagine his dad ever watching Rocky Horror.

"How do you know so much about the characters?"

Burt looked sheepish. "Your mom may have made me watch it once or twice a long time ago. She had a bit of a crush on Tim Curry."

"WHAT? Oh my Gaga, Dad!" Burt laughed, and signed the slip, handing it back to his son.

"So," Burt said, ready to change the subject. "I had my follow up today. The doc said I can start back to work on Monday."

"That's great dad! Just don't push yourself, okay?"

"That's what the doc said, too. Don't worry kiddo, I promised him I wouldn't do any heavy lifting or anything too stressfull."

"Good. Are you ready for dessert?"

...

Paris, 1794 AD

A week had passed, and Clovis once more found himself searching the screaming mob for dark curly hair and melted gold eyes. He knew it was foolish. The boy was the son of the man who condemned so many to be executed.

But he had seen that look in the other boy's eyes, the same one he saw in his mirror. Loneliness. Despair. Need. It had haunted him for days. He'd returned the next day, and every day since searching for the other boy. He knew it was foolish. He knew it was dangerous. He didn't care.

More shouts sounded. Somewhere near the tumbrel, people were accosting a woman who had tried to comfort one of the prisoners. Clovis couldn't watch. The crowd was fanatical, hungry for blood. The woman was beaten brutally. He turned away, trying to supress a gag.

And there he was, the golden eyed boy, who once again looked ill at ease. Their eyes met, and without thinking, Clovis grasped the other boy's hand and pulled him away from the riotous mob and into the relative safety of an alleyway. They hid there, both trembling with fear.

The darker boy slid down the wall, hiding his face in his knees. "How can they let this happen?"

"They?" Clovis said, disgust in his voice. "Your father is the one to blame. Him and the other members of Comité de salut public. Committee of Public Safety indeed! No one is safe!"

Benoît sobbed. "I know. I hate it! I hate what he's become! But I don't know how to stop it! He would never listen to me!"

Clovis saw the horror in the other boy's eyes, and with a sigh, sat down beside him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken my frustration out on you."

The younger boy laughed mirthlessly. "You wouldn't be the first." He looked away, and Clovis realized what the curly haired boy meant.

"Your father beats you?" Silence was his answer. "I'm sorry."

The other boy just shrugged. "I'm such a disappointment to him. I'm too short, I have no interest in politics, the sight of blood makes me ill, I'm weak and pathetic, and I prefer the company of males."

Clovis blinked in surprise at the words so bluntly spoken. He reached out and took the other boy's hand. "I don't think you are weak or pathetic. You are compassionate for not wanting to see people suffer. And just because you disagree with his politics, doesn't mean you are wrong. As for being too short, well, that I'm afraid I agree with."

He teasingly nudged the other boy, and won a small smile. "And what about my preferance for male companionship?" the dark one asked shyly, looking directly into to sea storm eyes.

Clovis smiled in return, leaning closer, their lips nearly meeting as he spoke. "It is fortunate that I also prefer the company of males."

They kissed, soft and sweet. They parted, looking deep into each other's eyes. And then they kissed again, deeper, longer, clinging to one another.

...

Kurt admired his handiwork in the mirror. The costume wasn't finished yet, but it definitely was coming along just fine. Once he added the wig and make up, no one would recognize him. He glanced over at the other costume, the silver one. It still needed some accessories, but it was basically finished except the boots, which he would finish tonight at home. He couldn't wait to show them off at the dress rehearsal tomorrow afternoon.

He took off the the costume and switched back to his regular clothes, carefully stowing both costumes and locking up the home-ec classroom. Mrs. Hagberg had loaned him the key so he could work on the costumes after school.

He went to his locker to retrieve his books before heading for the parking lot. He had timed his departure to be away from school before football practice was over in hopes to avoid the jocks, but he'd taken a little longer than he'd thought. He was almost to the exit when Karofsky appeared from around the corner, slushie in hand.

"Going somewhere, Homo?" He laughed as the shaved ice drink hit Kurt in the face. The pale boy shook with indignation, but couldn't do anything about it as the larger boy shoved him hard into the lockers, before walking away, calling out a few more slurs.

Kurt stood there for a moment longer before turning and pounding his fists on the locker in frustration. Why did the jerk hate him so much?

...

"Dad! I'm home!"

"Hey, Kiddo!" His dad called from the living room.

Kurt set his bag down and walked over to hug his father. "How was your first day back at work?"

"It was fine. Danny made certain I didn't over exhert myself. Carole dropped off dinner on her way to work. Some chicken dish that actually smells pretty good. She said just heat it up when you were ready."

Kurt nodded as he set his dad's meds in front of him, along with a glass of water. "I'll put it on in a few minutes."

"How was school?"

"Okay. I got an A+ on my French test, and Mr. Kinderson liked my proposal for my sience project. He thinks it might be a good entry for the science fair in January."

"That's great, Kurt! And how are play rehearsals going?"

"Great! I'm almost finished with my costumes, I'm going to finish up the boots tonight. Dress rehearsal is tomorrow."

"Good. Anything else going on at school?"

Kurt knew he should tell his dad about Karofsky, but didn't want his dad to worry, especially not now that he was back at work. He had enough to worry about at the garage.

"Nothing more than the usual drama."

...

Paris, 1794 AD

Clovis waited for Benoît in the alley where they had kissed two weeks ago. Since then they had met nearly every day, careful to avoid the masses shouting in the square and the darker boy's father. They had become lovers as well as friends.

The pale boy smiled to himself. He had fallen for the curly haired boy, and could no longer hide the truth from himself. He was going to ask the other boy to flee with him to somewhere safer for both of them. But where was he? And why were the fanatics in the square booing so?

He stepped from his hiding spot, and saw the tumbrel pulling into the square. But wait, was that Robespierre being brought forth in his own convience? What was happening? Where was Benoît?

He saw frightened golden eyes peeking out from the cart. No! That couldn't be! He heard the herold reading the decree, something about treason and attempting to reinstate the monarchy. But what did the boy have to do with it? Surely they wouldn't execute the son for the sins of the father?

Clovis forced his way through the crowd, shouting a denial. Benoît spotted him, and shouted for him to go, to leave him and save himself. The mob was even more incensed than ever, shouting and shoving.

The pale boy didn't care, he had to reach the boy he loved. The first blow knocked him to his knees. He could hear Benoît shouting his name. He tried crawling forward towards the golden eyed boy. Another blow sent pain ripping through his chest, stealing his breath. He tried to call out, but he had no voice. More blows rained down on him.

The last thing he saw before the darkness took him was his lover being dragged up the stairs to face Madame Guillotine.


	11. The Conductor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during one of the darkest times in US History, but at the same time it was very inspirational in the fact that people were so willing to help those who were very different from themselves. Several of my favorite historical figures come from this era, including Abraham Lincoln, Harriet Tubman (A.K.A. Moses), and Sojourner Truth, just to name a few.
> 
> Conductors on the underground railroad often used songs to send messages to let slaves know that an escape was eminent, or that certain routes were unsafe. Many spiritual songs of that era had secret meanings. Swing Low Sweet Chariot and Wade in the Water were actually used as signals letting them know that wagons were available for safe travel, or to walk through water because hounds were tracking them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during one of the darkest times in US History, but at the same time it was very inspirational in the fact that people were so willing to help those who were very different from themselves. Several of my favorite historical figures come from this era, including Abraham Lincoln, Harriet Tubman (A.K.A. Moses), and Sojourner Truth, just to name a few.
> 
> Conductors on the underground railroad often used songs to send messages to let slaves know that an escape was eminent, or that certain routes were unsafe. Many spiritual songs of that era had secret meanings. Swing Low Sweet Chariot and Wade in the Water were actually used as signals letting them know that wagons were available for safe travel, or to walk through water because hounds were tracking them.

Ohio, 1854 AD

The three men had been tracking their targets for more than a week, and frustration was growing. There was a significant bounty, and they were determined to cash in on it.

As they'd crossed into Pennsylvania, they knew the hunt would be even harder. So many sympathizers turning a blind eye. They'd been given the name of a few reliable contacts of course, those who would offer them assistance in retrieving the property they were sent after.

But now they were almost to Ohio and still hadn't caught up with their targets, despite their contact in Pittsburgh informing them that a group of known abolitionist had passed through less than a day ago.

It was nearly noon when they approached the large homestead just inside the Ohio state line. They spotted a man playing a guitar on the porch. He eyed them warily. "Can I help you sirs?"

"Yes," the leader said. "We're bounty hunters out of Maryland on the trail of some escaped slaves. We've received reliable information that they may have passed near here. Have you seen anything?"

The lanky blond studied them momentarily. "I don't really pay much attention to the comings and goings of people around here."

The leader leaned forward in his saddle. "You are aware, good sir, that the fugitive slave law requires you to report any suspected runaways?"

"I am, and as I said, I haven't seen anyone around here. Now, if you gentlemen are thirsty, feel free to refresh yourselves at the well before you depart."

They stared at one another for another moment, before the three bounty hunters finally bid him good day and rode off. As he watched them, the man began to pick a seemingly random tune on his guitar. A woman with long blonde hair came out of the house carrying two glasses of lemonade.

"Samuel?" She asked softly, watching the riders in the distance.

"Just act natural, Gwen." He smiled at her as he continued to play, the song increasing in volume as the riders passed around the curve in the road.

From under the porch a head of dark curls poked out. "Mighty thanks for the shelter, Mr. Evans. I'm sorry my cargo has placed you and your wife in danger."

The pretty blonde woman smiled. "It's our pleasure, Mr. Wright. Just rest for a while, make certain those trackers are gone, and I'll bring you down some food and refreshments."

Dark honey eyes smiled up at her. "Thank you kindly, Ma'am. And please, call me Beau. Our guide should arrive soon after sunset."

In the underground chamber beneath the house, Beau turned back to his cargo. He smiled to the four men and two women. "It's all clear for the moment, but we'll need to remain here until dark."

He smiled at the younger woman, who was about the same age as him, and carrying a three month old babe. "How are you doing, Mercy? I know this last leg was hard on you. And the little one here has been so good, never crying."

She smiled sweetly at him. "I'm good now, thanks to you. You are a good man, Beau. Some people might have left us behind when we couldn't keep up."

"Never. You'll reach the promised land soon, and little Daniel Jones here will grow up a free man, and will never have to worry about his family being split up by the cruelty of men."

…

"So, we're agreed then? We'll perform Teenage Dream in the commons in two days?" Wes rapped the gavel and smiled at the other Warblers. "Good, now to other business. I received a letter from the Ohio show choir committee with a list of our competition for Sectionals this year."

There was some excited chatter for a moment before he continued. "Due to recent changes in zoning, we won't be facing Vocal Adrenaline this year." More cheers erupted. The handsome Asian rapped the gavel again. "Yes, this is good news, but we can't lose focus now. Anyway, as I was saying, we will be facing a first year choir called The Hipsters, from the Warren Township continuing education program."

"Wait, I know them!" Jeff said. "My great aunt was a member of the choir, but had to drop out when she cracked her partials and kept whistling when she tried to sing through the gap!"

Several boys laughed at that, and again Wes rapped his gavel for attention. "Yes, well, our other competition is a bit more worrisome. The New Directions from William McKinley high school is in their second year of competition, and if the rumors I've heard are true, then they are definitely someone to contend with."

"If you're talking about the rumor that they had their set list stolen on the day of competition," Trent commented, "it's true. My cousin, Brian goes to school there, and he heard all about it. They arrived at the competition to find the other choirs doing their songs, and managed to put together a new set list on the fly, and won."

Blaine looked at him in shock. "You're kidding, right? They went out there without any rehearsal and won?"

"Yes, it was all over the show choir blogs for weeks afterwards."

Blaine smirked. "I really need to start reading those."

"So what did they end up singing?" Jeff asked.

Trent picked up his laptop and opened it. "It's on youtube, here."

Everyone gathered around as the video began to play. Blaine had trouble seeing the screen from his vantage point. The tiny brunette's rendition of Rain on my Parade was really amazing. Then they did You Can't Always Get What You Want, and though Blaine's view kept getting blocked by the taller boys, it was obvious why they won.

"Damn, they're good!" Nick and Thad said at the same time.

Wes looked a bit concerned. "We really need to step it up if we want to beat them at Sectionals."

Blaine agreed.

...

Ohio, 1854 AD

Swing low, sweet chariot  
Coming for to carry me home  
Swing low, sweet chariot  
Coming for to carry me home

Beau listened carefully. The voice singing was deep, and he wandered what the owner of that voice looked like.

Silently, he woke the others. "Our guide is here, but wait here while I check to make certain it's clear."

He slipped out of the hidden cellar, searching the tree lines and listening carefully for any sign of the trackers. When he determined the coast to be clear, he located the man singing, on the far edge of the property. Auburn hair and porcelain skin shown in the full moon light. Staying to the shadows, Beau made his way to the other male, who stopped singing when he spotted Beau.

Beau studied him for a moment, surprised that the other man was about the same age as him, taller, and lithe.

"Tracks?" He inquired, using the nickname his friend Moses had given him. He smiled at the thought of that feisty woman. This young man definitely reminded him of her.

"That's me, but you can call me Colt." Beau was startled by the pale one's speaking voice. It was somewhat high and slightly effeminate. "You must be Mr. Wright. Moses speaks highly of you."

They shook hands, and Beau could just see that the other young man's eyes were faceted blue. "Call me Beau. We need to get the cargo and get out of here. There are trackers in the area."

The fair one nodded. "There's a wagon on the other side of the woods ready to take us as far as the next station."

Beau turned back to the house and signaled for the others to join him. Cautiously, the six escaped slaves joined them on the edge of the woods. Beau introduced each of them, and they slipped into the trees.

They were silent until they reached the wagon. At first glance, the cart appeared to be full of bushels of vegetables, but when a few of the bushels were removed, a hidden compartment was revealed. It was small, with just enough room for them to sit, and a large jug of water, to keep them hydrated through the long journey. Colt and Beau replaced the bushels, and climbed onto the seat, with Colt taking up the reigns.

Neither of them spoke for a long while, until they were well away from the Evan's homestead. "So," the pale one said, breaking the silence at last. "How did you meet Moses? She really seemed impressed with you."

Beau smiled. "We met in Maryland, when she was conducting cargo through to Ontario. They'd been out flanked by trackers, and had taken refuge on my uncle's plantation. I managed to distract the bounty hunters enough for her and her cargo to get past them in the night. I caught up with her a couple nights later and helped her cover their trail. She was impressed with my skills, and we became good friends."

He smiled at the fair skinned man. "When we met up in Maryland again a little over a week ago, she asked me to conduct this cargo through an alternate route, while she took the rest through New York. Mercy, the young lady with the baby, has family further west in Canada. They'll be waiting for her and the others once we reach the border."

The other man nodded. "Is this your first train?"

Beau shook his head no. "No, I've been conducting for a couple of years now."

Colt looked over and studied him for a moment. "How old are you?"

Beau blushed. "I'll be seventeen in a few weeks."

"You've been doing this since you were fifteen?"

"Yes. How long have you been doing this?"

The pale one smiled. "About two years. I just turned eighteen last month."

They sat there smiling at each other for a moment, then turned back to the road in companionable silence once more.

…

Blaine and the other Warblers spent most of the next day's meeting brainstorming ideas to step up their game. Everything from song selection to choreography to wardrobe was discussed. Some of the talks had become pretty heated. They ended up ordering pizzas and continuing through the evening.

"Wes, if we don't break this up soon, I'm not going to get my French and History homework done, and we have the performance in the commons tomorrow, too." Blaine pointed out.

The head Warbler nodded and rapped his gavel. "All right, let's adjourn. We'll pick up this conversation at the next meeting."

Blaine made his way upstairs to his dorm and started on his homework. The French homework took him about an hour to complete, but the history homework took longer. By the time he'd finished writing his essay on the American Civil War and the events leading up to it, it was after midnight.

He was so exhausted, he over slept. He spent nearly the entire morning playing catch up. The performance in the commons was going to take place after lunch. He'd had to hurry through his meal so he could run upstairs and drop off his books and change his shirt since Trent had spilled spaghetti on him.

And then when he'd gone into the bathroom to freshen up a bit, he'd realized he hadn't gotten his hair gelled properly. He'd had to rinse it out and redo it. By the time he was finally ready, he only had eight minutes to get to the commons.

He was going through the lyrics and choreography in his head as he made his way down the stairs, when a voice called out softly.

"Excuse me..."

…

Ohio, 1854 AD

Beau fell asleep sometime late that night, but woke when the wagon stopped early the next morning. He glanced around, wondering where they were. He found himself looking into the dark eyes of a Native American. He sat up, shocked.

"Relax," Colt told him. "They're friends. They'll take care of us for a few hours while I sleep and the horses rest, and then we'll continue on around mid day. We should reach the next station late tonight."

The pale young man climbed down from the seat and greeted the tall Indian, who hugged him warmly.

They spoke in what must be the Shawnee language for a moment, and then Colt turned back to Beau. "This is Swift Fox. His father is the chief of this tribe. Swift Fox, this is Beau Wright."

They shook hands, and Swift Fox said something in his native language, that made the pale man blush and laugh. Beau quirked his eye brow in question, but the blue eyed man just shook his head. Swift Fox laughed, and addressed the curly haired young man. "It is good to meet you, Beau Wright. Come, we have food for you and the others. No one will disturb you here. You can sleep in peace."

The others emerged from the wagon, and Beau saw to their comfort, not really tired himself now. Once they were all settled, he decided to walk around the settlement. Swift Fox accompanied him.

Beau talked with the copper skinned man for most of the morning. He enjoyed the Native American's company. The older male had a sharp sense of humor and a strong intelligence. As mid day approached, Swift Fox smiled at him. "Colt likes you. I can tell he is attracted to you. He's a unique individual, and I'm happy he finally found someone."

Beau blushed. "You seem so sure of that."

"It is true, isn't it? You like him as well? You'll find that our people are not as closed minded about such matters as the white man are. Colt deserves to be happy. He lost his family early, and rather than being closed off and angry, he chooses to be kind and generous. I wish the two of you a long life and happiness."

Beau smiled, bemused. He opened his mouth to respond, but a shout drew their attention. Another Native American youth on horse back raced into the encampment. He spoke rapidly to Silver Fox in that language Beau didn't understand.

Concern filled the older man's face as he called out. "Rouse the travelers and get them provisioned and ready to go, quickly. Trackers are heading this way!"

Beau rushed to ready the wagon. The horses were quickly tethered and ready to go as the others quickly stowed into the hidden compartment. As Colt climbed up onto the seat and gathered the reigns, Beau asked Swift Fox if another horse was available.

"I'll ride behind and try to head them off. I'll catch up to you in Lima tonight."

Colt looked at him in concern. "Are you sure? You could be hurt, or get lost."

"I'll be fine. Just get the others to safety."

They shared a long look, and then Colt nodded, and started out on the trail west. Beau watched him go, then mounted the horse the Native American provided. Swift Fox shook his hand once more. "Safe journey, my friend."

Beau set out at a slower pace, allowing the trackers to spot him. He heard the leader shout out, having recognized Beau from the bounty posters.

Beau spurred his horse into a gallop, leading the trackers more north, away from the wagon. He made sure not to lose his pursuers. He didn't expect to hear the sound of gunshots.

Late that night, a horse wandered wearily into the outskirts of Lima, its rider clinging tightly to the saddle. Colt spotted them, and ran out to meet them. Beau collapsed as the pale man reached the exhausted animal.

"Beau!" Colt immediately spotted the blood on the darker man's back and shoulder. He gathered him into his lap.

Delirious, Beau looked up into faceted blue eyes, and smiled. "I lost them late in the afternoon, and then back tracked. Sorry I'm late."

He began to cough, and blood spewed from his mouth. Tears streamed down Colt's cheek as he spoke. "Shh, don't try and talk. I'll get you to the doctor."

Beau smiled and reached up to caress that pale cheek. "Tell Mercy I made it to the promised land."

As the light faded from honey colored eyes, Colt cried out in anguish.


	12. Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So here it is, the moment you've all been waiting for...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note on naming...In most (not all) Asian cultures, the surname (Familial name) comes before the proper (First) name.

He stormed out of the classroom, wondering why he even bothered to try anymore. Why try to fit in, when no one wanted him? Why try to stand out, when everyone tried to shove him down? Why even fight anymore when he would never win?

He sat in his car for a few minutes, just thinking. What would happen if he just started driving, and never looked back? Would any of them care? Would they even notice?

Go spy, Puck said. Fine. He'd go spy. Anything had to be better than the constant abuse, emotional and physical, that he got at McKinley. At least he'd have a little reprieve. He started the car, and plugged in his iPod, choosing a playlist. He sang along, once again changing the lyrics to fit his mood.

All your life, and what does it get ya?  
Thanks a lot, and out with the garbage.  
They take bows, and you're battin' zero.

I had a dream.  
I dreamed it for you, Glee.  
It wasn't for me, Glee.  
And if it wasn't for me, then where would you be,  
Miss Rachel Berry?

Well, someone, tell me; when is it my turn?  
Don't I get a dream for myself?  
Starting now, it's gonna be my turn!  
Gangway, world, get off of my runway!  
Starting now I bat a thousand!  
This time, boys, I'm taking the bows and...

Everything's coming up Kurt!  
Everything's coming up Hummel!  
Everything's coming up Kurt!

This time for me, ha ha ha ha ha!  
For me!  
For me!  
For me!  
For me!  
For me!  
For me! Yeah!

He was done trying to please everyone else. From now on, he was doing things for himself, and screw them if they didn't like it.

…

San Francisco, 1906 AD

It had been hours since the ground had stopped shaking, but the sounds of screams and shouts for help still filled the air. Chinatown was almost completely demolished. Collin searched desperately for his friends. Shy little Yi-Jin was supposed to be marrying Chang Meng today.

The auburn haired man kept calling their names, searching the faces of the stunned survivors. After an hour of helping to pull people out of the rubble, he finally spotted Meng helping an elderly Chinese gentleman lift a door off the man's elderly wife.

"Meng!" Collin called out, happy to see his friend. "Where is Yi-Jin? Is she alright?"

The tall Asian man looked up when he called, and smiled in relief. "Collin! Yi-Jin is fine. She is with her parents over in the park. I'm still searching for my father."

"Let me help, we'll search together."

They joined a crowd of men pulling rubble from in front of an apartment house. They could hear a baby crying inside, as well as other cries for help. They were about to shift a rather large piece of wall when someone called out.

"Wait! Don't move that yet, it's holding up part of the floor above!"

Collin stood up straight and turned to the voice. Eyes the color of melted gold were studying the structure. The shorter man moved in closer. "Here, move this piece here, and then we can wedge that broken post in to hold up the floor. Then when we move that section of wall we should be able to get someone small inside to search for the survivors."

Collin smiled at the curly haired man. "You sound like you know what you are doing."

The darker man smiled at him. "I hope so, I'm an engineer. It's my job to understand structures like this. I'm Ben, by the way."

"Collin. Thanks for the help."

"It's no problem, I'm searching for my friend, and we need to hurry, fires are breaking out everywhere."

They managed to secure the floor, and move the large slab of wall, and then Ben crawled inside. It was several intense minutes until he returned, carrying the infant and guiding several other people out of the building, including Meng's father. The two men hugged, and shook hands with Collin, Ben, and the others.

They continued to help free those trapped in the rubble, while temperatures climbed steadily. When they couldn't stand it anymore, they headed towards Golden Gate Park to find Yi-Jin. "C-collin! Thank g-goodness y-you're s-safe!" The pretty young Korean girl stuttered.

Collin introduced Ben to his friends. "I'm sorry we didn't find your friend. After we rest, we can go back and search again."

Ben smiled at him sadly. "I'm just afraid we're already too late. Wei is going to school to become a lawyer, and I know he was up late last night studying. He was probably still asleep when the quake hit."

Collin put his hand on the other man's shoulder. "We'll find him."

They stood there for a moment, just looking into each other's eyes.

…

Kurt stopped at home briefly to change clothes, and grabbed a second outfit, just in case. He wasn't sure what the dress code was like at Dalton, and he wanted to be prepared for anything.

Back in the car, a sense of giddy anticipation crept up on him. Dalton was an all boys school. There was a better than average chance that at least one boy there would be gay. Maybe he'd find a friend who understood what he went through on a daily basis. He didn't even want to think about the possibility of finding a boyfriend. That would probably be asking too much.

He turned the music on again, and began to sing along once more.

Could be!  
Who knows?  
There's something due any day;  
I will know right away,  
Soon as it shows.  
It may come cannonballing down through the sky,  
Gleam in its eye,  
Bright as a rose!

Who knows?  
It's only just out of reach,  
Down the block, on a beach,  
Under a tree.  
I got a feeling there's a miracle due,  
Gonna come true,  
Coming to me!

Could it be? Yes, it could.  
Something's coming, something good,  
If I can wait!  
Something's coming, I don't know what it is,  
But it is  
Gonna be great!

With a click, with a shock,  
Phone'll jingle, door'll knock,  
Open the latch!  
Something's coming, don't know when, but it's soon;  
Catch the moon,  
One-handed catch!

Around the corner,  
Or whistling down the river,  
Come on, deliver  
To me!  
Will it be? Yes, it will.  
Maybe just by holding still,  
It'll be there!

Come on, something, come on in, don't be shy,  
Meet a guy,  
Pull up a chair!  
The air is humming,  
And something great is coming!  
Who knows?  
It's only just out of reach,  
Down the block, on a beach,  
Maybe tonight . . .

Who knows, maybe he'd find something worth while at Dalton.

…

When he arrived at the private school, he studied the exterior for a few minutes, wondering if he'd entered the wrong address on his GPS. The place looked more like a mansion, or a museum, than a school.

Eventually he slipped inside, avoiding the office area and searching for the choir room. He really should have thought this through better, at the very least done some research on the internet, maybe look for a map of the layout of the school.

At first he though everyone must still be in class, the hallways were deserted, but then he spotted the full dining hall. His stomach growled, making him realize it was actually lunch time. He backed away from the door before anyone could spot him, heading down another hallway, not noticing the young man who quickly exited the bustling cafeteria, heading in the opposite direction, messily gelled hair sticking out in a few spots.

Kurt searched the upper floors, unobserved, but didn't find anything that resembled a choir room. He was making his way back downstairs when lunch period ended, and a stream of excited boys rushed down around him, all seeming to be heading to the same destination, and he wondered if they were having some sort of assembly today. He tried to act nonchalant, hoping no one noticed him, but his curiosity got the better of him. As the flow of boys thinned out, he called out softly to a dark haired boy.

"Excuse me..."

…

San Francisco, 1906 AD

After they'd rested for a while, and had something to eat and drink, most of the younger men headed back to the chaos to help search for survivors. They could see smoke and flames all over the city. As they neared a group of men assisting the injured, a voice called out.

"Ben!" The group paused, and Collin saw a handsome Asian stumbling towards them, his left arm bent at an odd angle, and blood dripping from a head wound.

"Xang Wei!" Ben ran to his friend, and they hugged, and Ben kissed the other man on the forehead. Collin felt a little uncomfortable, their embrace seemed a little intimate. The Asian man was sobbing.

"He's still in there, Ben! Xia Lin! He's alive, but trapped. Please! Help him! I love him so much!"

Ben hugged his friend again. "We'll get him out. Meng, can you take Wei down to the Presidio? I heard one of the fire fighters say they had a medical station set up there."

Collin and Ben picked their way into the building, freeing a few more survivors as they went. Finally they found Wei's apartment, or what was left of it. They found the other man trapped under a roof beam. Ben spoke to the scared man in fluent Chinese as he studied the situation.

"Collin, help me clear some of the smaller rubble on that side so we can shift the beam that way. I'll..."

A shout interrupted him. "Everyone out, the building is on fire!"

"Crap," Ben said. "No time to be subtle. Let's just shift the beam and get him out."

Collin nodded, positioning himself on one end of the heavy piece of wood. Together they managed to shift it enough for the small man to wiggle free. They were about to drop the beam and run for it when a small explosion threw Collin off his feet. He fell backward, impaling himself on some rebar, the beam pinning him in place. Flames started licking at the ruins.

Ben shouted in denial, trying to pick his way towards the pale man. Collin shook his head, gemstone eyes locking with gold. "Go, it's too late for me. Save yourself!"

Ben continued to struggle to reach him, but several fire fighters rushed in, appraising the situation, and pulled him away. The darker man never looked away from those blue eyes, watching them fade to grey. And then he was pulled out of sight.

…

Glasz eyes met gold, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. A dozen lifetimes flashed through his mind. Kurt blinked, and resumed speaking. "Um, hi. Can I ask you a question? I'm new here."

The dark haired boy also blinked, and then reached out to shake hands. "My name is.."

Ablain...

Bienra...

Barrius...

Borani...

Beric...

Blaise...

Bhaltair...

Bairre...

Blair...

Benoît...

Beau...

Ben...

"...Blaine"

The pale boy took his hand and opened his mouth to introduce himself.

Kur...

Amenmerassetkhert...

Curtius...

Tertius...

Cuthwin...

Killian...

Kester ...

Cárthach...

Curtis...

Clovis...

Colt...

Collin...

"...Kurt."

As their hands touched, a sense of rightness settled over him. Finally, he'd found what he'd been searching for. This boy standing in front of him was his destiny.


	13. Finally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giving credit to the Glee writers for the amazing dialogue, once again!

Ireland, 1424 AD

Bairre loved singing this song. When he'd first heard the poem, it had touched something deep inside of him, as if the person who had written it had written it just for him.

That was why he'd come here to this village on the shores of Galway Bay, to find that mysterious man, Cárthach Coylefer. When he'd arrived, he'd found a festival going on, and when the villagers had noted his mandolin, they had asked him to sing for them. He was happy to oblige.

He sang, and he danced, and he smiled wistfully. And when he finished the song, he'd inquired about the poet who had written it. The villagers smiled kindly at the young man with the golden eyes, and talked adoringly of the gentle poet on the hill. They gave him directions to the poet's home, and he thanked them before taking his leave.

As he walked along the winding path the next evening, having taken a day to get up his courage, he strummed his instrument, lost in thought as he often was. He'd read many of the poet's works, and each and everyone of them had pulled at him, drawn him to find the writer. He had set several of them to music, often singing them to himself when he needed comfort.

It was nearly twilight when he spotted the cabin in the distance. Smiling to himself, he slung the mandolin over his back and walked a little faster. He could see a whisp of smoke drifting on the evening breeze. And there, in front of the cabin sat an old man.

Bairre called out softly, not wanting to startle him, but the form remained still as the sun faded completely. He approached softly, and found his heart growing heavy, for it was obvious the old poet had passed peacefully in his sleep.

The curly haired musician knelt in front of the chair, studying that wizened face, so serene in death, and mourned for this kindred soul. Wiping a tear from his eye, he stood, and noticed the parchment in the old man's hand.

The poet had written a final poem. Very carefully, Bairre took the paper from the slackened grasp. He sobbed when he read the words.

The Wanderer

My body is old and gray

and now and then my mind wanders away

but yesterday my eyes were clear

when sweet music I did hear

so long has my heart hoped for this day

In your eyes I saw what could be

if only you saw me

and though it be too late

it could only be fate

If only I had searched for thee

Would you have been my lover

would I have been your love

in your wandering, did you search for me

Would you have said to me

there you are, I've been looking for you forever

…

Westerville, Ohio, 2011 AD

Blaine woke from the dream, tears in his eyes, though he didn't understand why. Something had been tugging at the back of his mind for days now, but he couldn't pin it down. Anticipation seemed to fill him, but he didn't know why. It felt like something was just out of his grasp, and all he needed was the right nudge and everything would fall into place.

He went through the morning almost in a haze, trying to understand what was happening to him. He wished he could talk to someone about the strange sensation he was feeling, but the one person he wanted to talk to seemed a little withdrawn himself.

Blaine didn't think Kurt was angry with him, but ever since their conversation after Misery the day before, his best friend had been a little stand-offish with him. Maybe that was it, maybe this feeling was just him feeling guilty over the disagreement the two of them had. He decided to speak with the auburn haired boy before Warbler practice that day.

But when practice time came, Kurt wasn't there. That worried him. Would his friend leave the Warblers because he felt left out? He lost his train of thought as the discussion got heated once more.

And then suddenly the doors burst open, and there was Kurt, dressed in mourning clothes. Oh god, what had happened? Had someone died? Was it Burt? He knew how close the boy was to his father, knew he'd be shattered if he lost him.

"Kurt, what's wrong?"

Tears streamed from those impossible eyes. "It's Pavarotti. Pavarotti is dead."

Blaine felt the pain radiating off the countertenor, felt the sorrow. As the pale boy began to sing, Blaine felt something swelling inside him.

Suddenly something clicked, and lifetimes of memories flooded through his mind, but one memory stamped itself into his heart. One single line changed him completely, and he suddenly understood what he had been feeling for the last few days.

…

Kurt sat in the commons, decorating the tiny box. He'd been thinking about Blaine, and why the boy had suddenly decided to do a duet with him. Could it be the other boy finally remembered? Ever since that moment on the staircase, Kurt had been remembering more and more details about their past lives, but as far as he could tell, the younger boy hadn't remembered at all.

But the other day when he had been singing Blackbird, he could have sworn he had seen recognition blossoming in those beloved melted gold eyes. For months, he had been devastated that not only did the other boy not remember, but apparently had felt nothing for him this time.

It had been almost a physical blow when the dark haired boy had proclaimed to be in love with Jeremiah, and again when the younger boy had gone out with Rachel. It had felt like fate had betrayed him, to give him this one last chance to be with the man he loved, only to laugh in his face while that man turned to everyone but him.

But now, maybe destiny was catching up to the younger man. Kurt was afraid to hope.

He was startled when the door opened and the man himself entered. As they talked, Kurt kept thinking to himself that he should just come out and ask the question burning in his veins. But what if he didn't remember? What if Kurt asked, and Blaine thought he was insane? But he had to know. He just had to ask the right question.

"Why did you pick me to do that song with?"

Their eyes met for a moment, and hope began to bubble through him. He knew. He knew.

"Kurt, there is a moment when you say to yourself, 'oh, there you are, I've been looking for you forever.'"

Kurt's heart soared. Yes! He did remember! Those words! The Wanderer!

Finally!

And then they were kissing, and suddenly it was if every heartbreak from those past lives was erased. All those missed opportunities were worth this moment.

…

Westerville, Ohio, 2013

He loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah

Love is all you need

He loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah

Love is all you need

Kurt's heart was racing. Was this really happening? After all those lifetimes, and everything that had happened this time around, could this be real?

"We met, right here. I took this man's hand, and we ran down that hallway."

Kurt remembered it as if it had been yesterday. He'd still been confused by the memories flooding his mind, but that moment in time was forever seared into his memory.

"And for those who know me, know I'm not in the habit of taking people's hands I've never met before, but I think my soul knew something that my body and my mind didn't know yet."

Kurt smiled, the little secret smile that they only shared with each other. Kurt knew what Blaine was referring to. He'd felt the exact same thing that instant their hands had touched on this very spot.

"It knew that our hands were meant to hold each other, fearlessly, and forever. Which is why it never really felt like I've been getting to know you; it's always felt like I've been remembering you from something. As if in every lifetime that you and I have ever lived," he shared that secret smile, looking into those faceted sea surge eyes that he'd fallen in love with so many times before, "we have chosen to come back, and find each other, and fall in love all over again, over and over, for all eternity. And I just feel so lucky that I found you so soon in this lifetime, because all I want to do, all-all I ever want to do, is spend my life loving you. So, Kurt Hummel, my amazing friend, my one true love, will you marry me?"

Kurt couldn't hold back the tears, as he nodded his head. "Yeah. Yeah."

They kissed, and they (finally) lived Happily Ever After...

Well, almost, but that's another story.


	14. Summary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just a little added detail, a few things that either didn't make it into the story, or little glimpses of things some people might have missed, plus a little more historical input on each chapter. I Highly recommend visiting the Wiki Pages for all the events I mention to learn much more.

Chapter 1, His Dark Prince

While the Kingdoms of Ur and Uruk were actual places, Umir is fictional. I made it up, but it is based on the real life kingdom of Sumer, or Sumeria, depending on which translation you go by. Sumeria was a pre-Mesopotamian civilization that has been traced back to at least 4025 years before Christ existed (BC or BCE).

The remains of these civilizations currently lay beneath the sands of Iraq, Iran, Syria, and several other Middle Eastern nations. Tragically, terrorists have worked to try and wipe the last remaining traces of them off the face of the Earth.

In the story, Kur is swept away by a flash flood. These were common occurrences along the rivers of the time, and still occasionally happen.

Did you all spot Rachel in Umir? Here's a little hint, she's still a spoiled little princess.

I referred to a Kitchen servant named Mercy in this chapter as well. I hadn't intended for her to be a past incarnation of Mercedes, but anything is possible, right?

Chapter 2, The Scribe

Scribes in ancient Egypt served many functions; They wrote letters for those who couldn't write for themselves, or read letters for those who couldn't read. They also sometimes served as a go between between the commoners and the gods, writing down prayers and messages for the dead to be placed in the various temples and burial sites. They were also occasionally employed as tutors for the children of the wealthy.

In 1334 BC, the Pharaoh, King Akhenaten, was disliked by many of his people due to the fact that he banned the worship of certain gods, and had moved the capitol away from Karnak. A year later, after his death, his son, nine year old Tutankhaten ascended to the throne. More commonly known as Tutankhamen, or simply King Tut, he followed the advice of his cabinet, and moved the capitol back to Karnak, and reinstated the worship of the banned deities.

King Tut reigned for ten years, before his death at the age of 19, most likely caused by an infection from a broken bone.

The sandstone caverns in which Bienra is buried in a landslide are often called wadi. Landslides are common during the rainy season, but can happen at any time of the year.

Puck, Santana, Brittany, and Warbler David all made appearances in this chapter. Did you spot them?

Mr. Schue was supposed to appear in this chapter. Khert's former tutor was supposed to be named Shu, which was actually a common name in the Egyptian language at that time.

Chapter 3, Freeborn

On or about August 24th, 79 AD, Mount Vesuvius erupted with a hundred thousand times the thermal energy of the nuclear bomb that was dropped on Hiroshima. The exact number of deaths from the eruptions is unknown, but to date, 1044 intact bodies have been excavated. There are pictures of a couple who died while sharing an intimate moment, which inspired my story.

Most of the victims died quickly, from searing heat that flashed through the area. The rest either died of asphyxiation or drowned trying to swim to safety.

I won't go over the rather convoluted ideas the Roman's had about sex again. You can read the author's notes at the bottom of chapter three for the pertinent information, or you can google it if you want to learn more.

Did you find Finn, Burt, Carole, Nick and Jeff in this chapter?

Chapter 4, Spoils of War

Again on or about August 24th, 410 AD, The Visigoths sacked the city of Rome, which at this point of time was no longer the capitol of the Roman Empire. During the siege, Galla Placidia, sister of Roman Emperor Honorius, was taken captive. She would later marry the man who held her captive, though he did not live long after the marriage.

Alaric I, king of the Visigoths (Or simply Goths) had several grievances with Honorius prior to the attack on the city. You can learn more about the events that lead up to the siege, which lasted for three days, by googling it or visiting the Wiki page.

I had intended for Warbler Trent to appear in this chapter, but ended up cutting the scene short. He would have been one of Placidia's guards.

Chapter 5, Magic and Mayhem

In October of 782 AD, Charlemagne, AKA Charles I, orchestrated the mass execution of over four thousand Saxons who refused to be baptized into Christianity. The Massacre occurred in the town of Verden, in the lower region of Germany, near where the river Aller joins the Weser.

Some of those who opposed the forced conversions rebelled, but ultimately fell to the Frankish army. The massacre was Charlemagne's retaliation for the rebellion.

At the point in time, Saxon religion was nature centered, almost shamanistic, and they strongly believed in magic and Fae creatures such as Nymphs, fairies, and whisps.

While Cuthwin and his family did not believe in gods or magic, many superstitious people would have considered them witches or druids, because they understood and respected the balance of nature.

I'm sure you all recognized Sebastian Smythe in this chapter. And Emma Pillsbury made a cameo, sort of...

Our boys ALMOST met!

Chapter 6, His Parfit Gentil Knight

The Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and the Temple of Solomon, AKA The Knights Templar, was established in the year 1119, and was active from 1129-1312. During this time they established the modern banking system, secured routes to The Holy Land, Secured the city of Jerusalem, and lead many crusades.

In 1177, at the Battle of Montgisard, the Knights were vastly out numbered by Muslim forces, yet still managed the victory. The number of casualties on either side isn't clear, though a conservative estimate of 1,100 was given.

To become a Knight, one must have been of noble birth, or shown great bravery and allegiance to one's lord. There were three stages to becoming a Knight.

The first stage was to be a page. Pages began their training at the age of seven. Training included serving a lord or high ranking knight in his lord's service. This entailed polishing armor, cleaning weapons, delivering messages, and assisting the huntsmen and falconers. They also trained in the bailey (usually an outdoor weapons rink where pages, squires and Knights all sparred.) The pages were only allowed to use wooden swords and blunted weapons.

Once the boy reached the age of fifteen, he could undergo a religious ceremony where he took a vow on a consecrated sword to serve God, his king, and his lord. The Squire was now allowed to wear light armor and use heavier training swords and weapons. They still acted as servants to higher ranking knights, but with more focus on combat training.

Usually once the squire turned 21, they were conferred the title of Knight, but could obtain the title before then if they showed an excess of bravery.

Mr. Schue makes an appearance in this chapter as Sir Wilhelm.

Chapter 7, Play the Pipes For Me

On September 11th, 1297, The English Calvary crossed the River Forth at Stirling Bridge. The bridge was narrow, and only two riders could cross abreast. Wallace and Moray observed from higher ground, and when they thought enough of the enemy had crossed that they could manage while still dealing a major blow to the English, the highlanders attacked. They cut off any chance of reinforcement from the other side of the river, and when the English infantry tried to storm the bridge to aid their fellow countrymen, the bridge collapsed under the weight, sending dozens more soldiers to their watery deaths.

While English casualties were estimated to be over five thousand dead, Scottish casualties weren't recorded, although Moray was gravely wounded and died later that year.

Chapter 8, The Wanderer

I don't have much more to add to this chapter, other than to point out that the song Ireland is one of my favorite Garth Brooks songs, and I would love to hear Chris Colfer sing it sometime. The poem The Wanderer was written by me, and I hope it wasn't too badly written.

Chapter 9, Star Crossed

William Shakespeare wrote the play Romeo and Juliet sometime between 1591 and 1595. It was based on a novel by Arthur Brooke written in 1562 titled The Tragical History of Romeus and Juliet.

Observant readers may have spotted Sue Sylvester in this chapter.

They ALMOST met again!

Chapter 10, Revolution

The French revolution lasted from 1789 to 1799, and at it's height, known as the reign of terror, as many as 29 people were executed a day. While poor economy, weak crops, and a general partisan between the classes were the main factors, an over all lack of faith in the ruling class was the primary complaint.

The gruesome use of the Guillotine became a spectator sport of sorts, drawing huge mobs who were often unruly. Nearly as many people were beaten to death by fanatical crowds as were beheaded by La Madame Guillotine.

In an ironic twist of fate, Maximilien Robespierre, who ordered many of the executions, was himself executed by Guillotine.

Chapter 11, The Conductor

There is so much I could say about the history surrounding this chapter. I highly recommend reading the biography of Harriet Tubman, as well as The Underground Railroad: Authentic Narratives and First-Hand Accounts (1872), by William Still.

While technically there were no set codes used by the Underground Railroad, there were many terms used by it's operatives;

People who helped slaves find the railroad were "agents" (or "shepherds")

Guides were known as "conductors"

Escaped slaves were referred to as "passengers" or "cargo"

I recommend researching the correlation between music and the Underground Railroad.

Sam, Quinn and Mercedes had cameos in this chapter.

Chapter 12, Destiny

At 5:12am, on April 18th, 1906, an Earthquake estimated to be between magnitude 7.7 and 8.3 struck the San Francisco Bay area. The exact magnitude is unknown, as the modern Richter scale would not exist for another three decades.

More than three thousand people were reported killed, most of those having died in the widespread fires that followed. The exact number of the deceased may actually have been much higher, as many casualties in Chinatown went unreported for one reason or another. To this date, this still remains one of the largest death tolls from a natural disaster in US History.

Mike Chang, Tina, and Wes all had cameos in this chapter.

I hope you all not only enjoyed this story, but also learned some history from it.

Now I have a question. Would you all be interested in finding out more of the other Glee members past life? I need to work on my other writings this summer, try to get something marketable finished, try to get my two completed scripts submitted and hopefully find someone willing to produce them who will allow me to direct them. I'm also working on a novella I want to get published, which will be my main project before I go back to work in August. I do have some ideas for a few one shots that I will try and work on this summer too, if you all would be interested in reading them.

In the meantime, I am working to finish the other Klaine story I have been working on. If you haven't checked it out, look for In Dreams He Came.

Hope to hear from you all soon!

CY


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